LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


A  LOVERS'   TALE 


A  LOVERS' 
TALE 


BY 

MAURICE   HEWLETT 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
NEW   YORK    ::::::    1915 


Copyright,  1915,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  March,  1915 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. — THE    BROTHERS    IN    MIDFIRTH 
II. — THE   WHALE   . 
III. — CORMAC   GOES   TO    NUPSDALE 
IV. — CORMAC   WILL    NOT    BUDGE 
V. — CORMAC   IN    LOVE    . 
VI. — DOINGS    AT   TONGUE 
VII. — FIGHTING   AT   TONGUE 
VIII. — THE    SPAE-WIFE'S    CURSE 
IX. — THE    PLIGHTING 
X. — THE    DAY    OF   THE   WEDDING 
XI. — BERSE    COMES    IN     . 
XII. — STANGERD'S    WEDDING       . 
XIII. — CHASE   .... 
XIV. — PARLEY 


PAGE 

I 

5 
10 

22 
30 

44 
58 
72 
86 
106 
124 

135 

150 
167 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XV- 

XVI.- 

XVII.- 

XVIII.- 

XIX.- 

xx.- 
xxi.- 

XXII.- 
XXIII.- 
XXIV.— 

xxv.- 

NOTE 


-CORMAC   MAKES    READY    . 
-BATTLE  .... 

-BERSE    GOES    HOME 
-DOINGS    AT  THE   THING     . 
-STANGERD    FREES    HERSELF 
-TOOTHGNASHER 
-THORWALD   THE   TINSMITH 
-CORMAC    COMES    BACK 
-STANGERD    GOES   TO   THE    FLEET 
THE    NIGHT   IN   THE    WOOD 
-THE    END   OF   IT        . 


PAGE 
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I96 
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294 


A  LOVERS'   TALE 


A   LOVERS'   TALE 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  BROTHERS  IN  MIDFIRTH 

TNTO  Midfirth  runs  the  Mell  river  through 
mudflats  and  marl  to  mix  green  water 
with  the  salt  waves.  On  either  side  the 
land  is  rich  and  wet,  giving  fine  pasture, 
and  you  can  hardly  see  the  snow  peaks 
beyond  the  fells  from  which  Mell  comes  down 
cold  and  green  and  clear.  There  on  the 
brae  stood  Melstead,  and  there  it  stands 
yet.  Once  it  was  the  house  of  Ogmund 
and  his  wife  Dalla;  but  he  died  before 
the  tale  begins,  which  begins  with  Dalla, 
a  widow  and  blind,  and  her  two  grown  sons 
— Thorgils  and  Cormac. 


2  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Dalla  had  been  a  fine  girl  when  she 
married  Ogmund,  as  he  himself  was  a  fine 
man,  who  had  been  a  fighter  and  a  Viking 
in  his  day.  Between  them  they  had  this 
couple  of  fine  sons,  of  whom  Thorgils,  the 
elder,  favoured  his  father,  but  had  little 
of  his  quality.  A  broad-shouldered,  fair- 
haired,  sleepy  young  man  he  was  now, 
steady  at  his  work,  and  in  his  ways  mild 
and  quiet.  He  thought  twice  before  he 
spoke,  and  therefore  seldom  spoke  at  all. 
If  everybody  did  that,  the  world  would 
be  a  peaceful  place  and  much  work  done 
in  it;  but  it  would  be  very  dull.  Cormac 
took  after  his  mother  in  looks,  being  vivid 
black  and  white.  His  hair  was  jet-black 
and  curled  freely,  his  face  was  very  high 
in  colour,  that  ran  off  to  white  in  his  fore- 
head and  neck.  His  eyes  were  light  grey 
and  rather  fierce.  He  was  a  wild  young 
man,  but  very  friendly  after  the  bout.  He 
had  no  idea  how  strong  he  was;  but  his 
brother  knew,  though  they  were  very  good 


THE   BROTHERS  IN  MIDFIRTH  3 

friends  for  all  that.  He  had  a  keen  eye 
for  the  flight  of  a  bird  or  the  play  of  a  fish, 
knew  the  weather  by  the  smell  of  it,  and 
could  sing  and  make  verses.  Sometimes  he 
made  verses  because  he  had  been  moved; 
sometimes  he  was  moved  because  he  had 
made  verses;  and  often  he  did  not  know 
which  way  it  had  been  with  him.  Although 
he  had  no  notion  of  setting  up  for  a  poet, 
he  thought  about  himself  and  his  sensations 
a  good  deal,  and  had  found  out  already 
that  he  did  not  greatly  care  to  do  anything 
unless  he  could  watch  himself  doing  it, 
and  watch  the  thing  done  as  it  suffered 
the  doing.  That's  a  poet  all  over;  but  he 
didn't  know  it.  It  gave  him  the  conclusion, 
however,  that  he  was  very  unlike  his  father, 
the  Viking,  to  whom  the  killing  of  a  man 
was  not  at  all  the  same  as  the  killing 
of  a  pig.  But  Cormac,  who  had  never 
killed  a  man  yet,  fancied  that,  to  him  at 
least,  there  would  be  no  essential  difference. 
His  father  again  (he  had  heard)  had  loved 


4  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

many  women,  while  he  had  loved  never 
a  one.  But  his  father  had  been  very 
jealous  in  his  loves,  and  had  killed  almost  as 
many  men  because  they  had  intermeddled 
in  his  love-affairs.  Now  Cormac,  thinking 
that  over,  felt  very  sure  that  he  should 
never  be  jealous  if  he  were  a  lover.  He 
theorised  at  large  about  it;  he  gave  the 
subject  a  great  deal  of  attention.  Love- 
making  must  enhance  a  woman,  he  thought, 
even  in  the  minds  of  her  lovers.  If  she  was 
beautiful,  it  was  surely  her  due.  If  she 
was  plain,  it  would  provoke  desire.  What 
more  lovely  sight  could  the  world  offer  a 
man  than  to  see  the  woman  he  longed  for 
the  burning-point  of  the  world's  longing  ? 
He  kept  these  ideas  to  himself  because  he 
had  nobody  but  his  mother  to  whom  he 
could  have  imparted  them.  She  would  have 
laughed  at  him  and  made  him  angry. 

When  this  tale  begins,  Cormac  was  a  full- 
grown  man,  strong  for  his  age. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  WHALE 

'\X/rHEN  the  whale  came  ashore  at  Waters- 

ness,  Thorgils   heard   of  it  first.     He 

went     down    to    look    at     it,     and     found 

it    was    upon    his    land.    It    lay    there,    a 

mountain  of  distress,  and  the  flies  about  it 

were   as   thick   as   a   snowstorm.     At   home 

that   night   he   spoke   of  it   to   his   mother, 

and  said  that  one  of  them  must  set  to  work 

cutting    it    up    next    day,    or    all   would    be 

spoiled.    It    was    late    autumn,    very    close, 

still,    and    hot,    as    it    often    is    before    the 

weather  breaks   up.     Dalla   said:    "Cormac 

will   never   go   to   such   a  work.     He   hates 

to  foul  his  hands." 

"Then     I     must     do     it     myself,"     said 

s 


6  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Thorgils;  "but  I  had  been  going  on  to  the 
fells  to  round  up  the  sheep.  It  is  fully 
time." 

"Send  Cormac  after  the  sheep,"  Dalla 
said,  "and  let  Toste  go  with  him,  and  send 
some  of  the  hands." 

Just  then  Cormac  came  in.  They  heard 
him  whistling  outside  in  the  dusk.  He 
stayed  there  a  good  time  whistling,  singing 
scraps  of  songs,  then  came  in  and  looked 
at  them,  scowling  from  under  his  black 
brows.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
expecting  to  find  nobody  and  was  annoyed 
by  a  sudden  roomful  of  people.  But  they 
took  no  notice  of  him,  and  his  face  cleared. 
It  was  like  the  sun  coming  out  from 
behind  a  cloud.  He  threw  his  head  up 
and  laughed  richly  and  snugly,  as  if  to 
himself. 

Dalla  heard  him.  "What  are  you 
laughing  at?" 

"You,"  he  said,  and  she  asked: 

"Why  so?" 


THE  WHALE  7 

He  came  and  kissed  her.  "Because  I 
love  you,  I  think." 

"That's  an  odd  reason,"  she  said,  turning 
up  her  sightless  face. 

"No,  it's  not,"  he  said;  "it's  a  very 
good  reason.  Whenever  I  come  upon 
something  I  love,  and  find  it,  all  closed 
in  and  ready  to  my  hand,  it  tickles  me. 
I  laugh  and  think  to  myself,  *  There's  that 
pretty  thing,  snug  against  when  I  want  it.' 
And  then  I  go  away  and  do  what  I've  got  to 
do,  and  remember  that  it's  there  all  the  time." 

His  hand  was  stroking  her  face,  and  she 
moved  about  to  get  the  feel  of  it.  She 
was  very  pleased.  "Your  brother  here 
thinks  you  a  madman;  but  I  understand 
you,"  she  said. 

"So  does  he,  when  he  wants  me,"  said 
Cormac,  and  sat  down  to  his  supper. 

"I  shall  want  you  in  the  morning," 
Thorgils  said  after  much  reflection,  and 
told  him  about  the  whale.  Cormac  made 
a  sour  face. 


8  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

But  he  took  a  long  draught  before  he 
spoke,  and  then  he  said:  "That  will  be 
a  dirty  business,  Thorgils.  Can't  you  give 
me  one  more  to  my  liking  ?  You  know 
I  do  ill  what  I  have  no  taste  for." 

Thorgils  said:  "Well,  you  can  round 
up  the  sheep  on  the  fells  if  you  please.  It 
matters  little  to  me.  These  things  have 
to  be  done.  There's  snow  coming  when 
the  wind  changes.  It  is  banking  in  the 
north-west  even  now." 

This  was  a  long  speech  for  Thorgils,  who 
had  no  more  to  say  after  it,  and  soon  went 
to  bed.  Cormac  sat  up,  telling  his  mother 
tales  or  listening  to  her  stories  of  his  father 
when  he  had  been  seafaring  in  Ireland; 
and  before  he  himself  went  to  bed  he  must 
needs  go  out  of  doors  again.  There  was  a  full 
moon  shining  in  splendour  over  the  firth, 
and  the  sky  was  wonderfully  clear.  You 
could  see  over  the  fells  to  the  white  cap 
of  Eiriks-jokul  gleaming  in  the  Southern 
sky   like   a   dome.     Below   that,    and   three 


THE  WHALE  9 

days'  journey  short  of  it,  were  the  fells 
where  the  sheep  lay,  and  Cormac  must  be 
betimes  in  the  morning.  He  would  go  with 
Toste,  who  was  the  Melstead  reeve  and 
worked  the  dogs. 

But  though  he  shortened  his  night  by  it, 
Cormac  nevertheless  walked  about  the  shore 
under  the  glory  of  the  moon;  and  many 
a  verse  he  made  and  sang  to  himself  as  he 
looked  over  the  full,  flowing  water  or  marked 
the  ducks  bobbing  about  like  a  fisherman's 
floats  in  the  broad  path  of  light. 


CHAPTER  III 

CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE 

/TAHEY  rode  out  at  sunrise,  Cormac  and 
Toste,  with  the  dogs  and  house-carles, 
and  worked  all  day  fetching  in  the 
sheep.  It  was  hard  work;  and  the  dusk 
came  down  early  and  found  them  still  at 
it.  Toste,  who  knew  where  they  were,  said 
that  it  would  be  well  to  put  into  Nups- 
dale-stead  for  the  night.  "They'll  feed  us 
well,  and  we  shall  hear  some  good  talk," 
he  said. 

Cormac  said  it  was  all  one  to  him  where 
he  stayed.  He  was  ready  to  sleep  out  on 
the  fell,  or  go  home,  as  Toste  pleased. 

Toste  was  for  Nupsdale-stead.  He  knew 
the  master  of  the  house,  and  was  known  of 

IO 


CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE  n 

him.  "They  will  make  you  welcome,  too," 
he  told  Cormac,  "and  you'll  see  the  finest 
girl  in  the  country,  I  believe." 

"Who's  that,  then?"  says  Cormac. 

"Why,  Stangerd,  Thorkel's  daughter  of 
Tongue.  She's  been  fostered  there  these 
four  years,  and  was  like  a  spoiled  hawk 
when  I  saw  her  last,  three  years  back,  I 
daresay.  She  will  be  of  a  likeable  age  by 
now — sixteen  years  old  or  thereabouts.  A 
handful,  I'll  warrant  her — a  breaker  of 
hearts." 

"We'll  go  to  Nupsdale-stead,"  Cormac 
said.     "I  should  like  to  see  her." 

Toste  went  on  with  his  meditations  aloud. 
"A  burning  girl — a  big  girl.  She'll  set  you 
afire.     There'll  be  a  pair  of  you." 

Cormac  laughed,  and  threw  his  head  up. 
Then  they  went  on  through  the  acres  to 
the  homestead,  which  was  a  spacious  place 
well  sheltered  from  the  wind;  and  soon 
they  heard  the  dogs  give  tongue  from  the 
roof,  and  soon  it  was  their  business  to  fight 


12  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

them     off,     and     keep     their     own     from 

dismemberment. 

$  $  $  $  $ 

They  were  well  received  in  the  hall,  where 
they  found  a  company  sitting  at  drink, 
a  good  fire,  and  a  table  where  there  would 
be  supper  by  and  by.  Cormac  looked 
about  for  the  finest  girl  in  the  country; 
but  there  were  no  women  in  the  hall:  a  son 
of  the  house  served  the  newcomers  with 
drink.  At  the  further  end  was  the  high 
seat  with  two  great  pillars  carved  with  the 
heads  of  Odin  and  Thor;  and  on  each  side 
of  that  curtains  were  hung  so  that  there 
could  be  a  passage  all  round 

Presently,  as  they  sat  listening  to  the 
talk,  Toste  gave  Cormac  a  nudge,  and  when 
he  got  his  attention,  looked  towards  those 
curtains. 

Cormac  nodded.  "I  know,"  he  said. 
"There  are  two  of  them  there. " 

Behind  the  curtains  were  two  pairs  of 
bare  feet  shining  in  the  light  from  the  fire, 


CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE  13 

and  a  hand  stirred  the  folds,  as  if  to  keep 
them  together. 

Cormac  watched  them  for  a  little,  then 
began  to  sing  softly,  as  if  to  himself: 

"O  eye-deceit  or  heart-deceit, 
Lo,  there,  my  blessing  or  my  bane ! 
A  lover  at  a  lady's  feet 
Holding  his  heart,  and  there  a  pain ! 

A  lady's  feet,  and  there  a  lover: 
A  patch  of  snow  left  by  the  rain ] 
Afield,  or  two  tufts  of  white  clover — 
And  near  beside  a  young  man  slain." 

Then  the  white  feet  drew  back;  but 
presently  Cormac  saw  another  thing — or 
Toste  did  and  showed  it  to  Cormac.  The 
heads  upon  the  high  seat  pillars  had  had 
empty  eyes;  but  now  the  eyes  of  Thor 
were  agleam. 

"She  is  looking  at  you,"  said  Toste. 

Cormac  nodded. 

"She  has  bright  eyes.  The  fire  plays 
with  them." 


14  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Then  he  sang  again: 

"The  fire  plays  with  my  lady's  eyes, 
And  they  make  music  in  my  head. 
The  sea-blue  bird  that  flashing  flies 
Like  a  sword  down  the  river-bed, 
Links  the  green  earth  and  azure  skies ; 
And  so  with  me  is  Stangerd  wed, 
When  light  with  light  is  handfasted." 

Whether  she  heard  him  or  not,  her  eyes 
remained  shining  in  the  empty  sockets  of 
Thor,  and  Cormac  watched  them.  By  and 
by  the  sockets  showed  empty;  and  not 
long  after  that,  Stangerd  and  a  companion 
came  into  the  hall  at  the  lower  end  and 
sat  down  together  on  a  bench  and  looked 
guardedly  at  the  company.  Stangerd  was 
a  tall  and  big  girl,  with  corn-coloured  hair, 
very  fine  and  abundant,  and,  as  Toste  said, 
she  was  fire-hued  and  bold-looking,  with 
blue  eyes.  She  was  bold-looking,  and  had 
bold,  free  movements.  Cormac  looked  at 
her,  and  spoke  to  himself.  He  looked  and 
muttered,   looked   and   muttered.     Then   he 


CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE  15 

broke  out  so  that  Toste  could  hear  him, 
and  others  beside  Toste.  Stangerd  herself 
could  tell  that  he  was  talking  verses,  and 
be  sure  that  they  were  about  her.  As  for 
her  friend,  she  revelled  in  it. 
Cormac  sang: 

"O  mood  of  mine — O  fever  song 
Begot  when  I  cast  eyes  upon  her ! 
When  eyes  gave  me  this  burning  lass, 
Daughter  of  Thorkel  of  the  Tongue — 
A  goddess'  maid,  a  Maid  of  Honour, 
Flusht  in  the  face,  with  hair  like  brass, 
Or  corn  that  yellows  to  the  sickle, 
Full  tall  and  free,  and  bold,  and  young; 
Deep-bosom'd,  too,  with  deep  blue  eyes 
Like  slumb'ring  pools — a  girl  of  size, 
Whom  seeing  no  man,  you'd  say,  would  stickle 
To  take  to  bed  and  make  a  woman — 
Heart  shows  her  me  a  spirit  not  human   ..." 

There  he  stopped,  not  because  all  men 
were  considering  him  and  his  muttering  and 
his  fixt  eyes,  but  because  words  failed  him. 
He  still  looked  at  Stangerd,  but  could  not  see 
her  for  the  fiery  mist  which  enwrapt  her. 


16  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Toste  said,  "That's  a  splendid  girl,  that 
girl  of  Thorkel's.  There  won't  be  such 
another  in  the  country.  Yet  he  would  be 
a  bold  man  who  would  wive  her." 

"Why  so?"  Cormac  asked  him  in  a 
stare. 

Toste  said,  "Look  at  the  colour  of  her; 
look  at  her  ease  and  boldness.  She  is  the 
sort  that  will  ask  and  have." 

Cormac  said,  "All  that  is  as  it  may 
be.  What  she  wants  should  be  hers  by 
right.  She  is  good  to  look  upon — and  that 
is  enough  for  me." 

"You  seem  to  find  her  good,"  said  Toste, 
"and  you  may  look  your  fill.  You'll  never 
look  her  out  of  countenance.  She's  a  match 
for  you." 

Cormac  could  see  that  the  two  girls  were 
talking  about  him,  for  they  looked  side- 
ways as  they  whispered  together,  but  kept 
their  faces  turned  away  from  him.  He 
could  not  hear  what  they  said. 

Stangerd,   it  seemed,  did   not   approve  of 


CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE  17 

him  very  much,  but  the  other  girl  praised 
him. 

"A  fine  young  man,"  she  said,  "with  a  fine 
way  of  looking  at  you,  without  offence.  He 
looks  at  you  as  if  you  were  a  flowering  tree.,, 

Stangerd  said,  "He's  like  a  magpie — all 
black  and  white.  And  I  dislike  a  curly- 
headed  man." 

"He  has  good  eyes,  sweetheart,"  said 
the  other  girl.     "He  misses  nothing." 

Stangerd  shrugged  one  of  her  shoulders. 
"Black  eyes,  he  has.  They  are  treacherous. 
They  see  much  and  show  little." 

"They  see  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  other, 
"and  so  much,  at  least,  they  show.  If  I 
am  not  a  goose  they  show  you  a  deal  more 
than  that." 

Stangerd  felt  their  scrutiny,  and  endured 
it  for  a  good  while;  but  presently  she  began 
to  blush,  and  then  must  move,  complaining 
of  the  fierceness  of  the  fire. 

The  men  brought  in  the  food  for  supper; 
and   then,    as   the   custom   was,   the   women 


1 8  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

of  the  house  waited  on  the  men,  pouring 
them  their  drink.  Cormac's  eyes  followed 
Stangerd  about  from  man  to  man.  He 
said  very  little  at  table,  but  seemed  as  if 
he  was  bewitched.  When  she  came  to  his 
side  and  stood  above  him  to  pour  out  the 
liquor,  he  did  not  look  at  her,  but  frowned 
at  his  platter.  Nor  did  he  watch  her  any 
more  until  she  went  out  with  her  foster- 
mother  and  the  other  girls  of  the  house. 

He  drank  deeply  from  his  horn,  and  then 
looked  at  Toste  as  he  sang: 

"Full  in  the  hall,  rob'd  in  her  white 
She  sat  at  ease  with  her  arms  bare, 
And  gaz'd  before  her  at  the  light, 
Dreaming — and  her  blue  eyes  astare 
Encompast  me  and  gave  me  sight 
Of  their  mystery  and  intent — 

And  when  about  the  board  she  went, 
Serving  the  men  with  mead,  and  came 
And  stood  above  me  till  I  bent 
Before  her,  as  before  the  flame 
The  bushes  in  a  forest  bow 
And  show  all  white — I  had  her  name 
As  if  'twas  written  on  my  brow: 


CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE         19 

A  Valkyr,  Chooser  of  the  slain ! 

A  storm-fraught  spirit,  fierce  as  pain, 

With  whom  to  clasp  and  kiss,  or  grapple 

As  man  with  woman,  that  were  thought 

To  deaden  a  deed — as  if  you  brought 

The  lovely  Night  to  bed,  or  fared 

To  play  below  the  gleaming  thrapple 

Of  the  keen  daughter  of  the  snow, 

And  froze  when  her  white  hills  she  bared. 

Not  possible !    Nay,  let  her  go, 
Mistress  of  Destiny,  unmov'd 
Her  way  of  the  gods,  her  way  of  woe, 
But  ever  lovely,  ever  lov'd, 
Treading  the  necks  of  beaten  men !" 

Toste  said:  "You  are  badly  hit,  I  see." 
Cormac  made  no  answer,  and  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  girl  until  she  left  the  hall 
with  her  companion.  The  master  of  the 
house,  who  was  fostering  Stangerd  and 
had  observed  the  effect  she  had  had,  came 
over  the  hall  and  sat  by  his  two  guests. 
He  pledged  them,  and  encouraged  Cormac 
to  talk. 

That  was  not  at  all  hard,   as  the  young 
man   was   excited,    and    had    drunk    enough 


20  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

to  loosen  stiffer  tongues  than  his  own.  He 
talked  freely,  but  very  well.  Men  gaped, 
then  laughed  at  him,  then  laughed  with 
him.  Very  often  he  broke  naturally  into 
verse;  and  soon  his  was  the  only  voice 
you  heard.  His  father,  Ogmund  the  Viking, 
was  his  best  theme;  he  had  a  way  of 
picturing  the  scenes  in  which  his  life  had 
been  spent.  Once,  he  said,  Ogmund  rowed 
up  a  broad  English  river  in  his  long  ship 
with  a  raven  at  the  prow.  His  ship  was 
called  Raven.  They  rowed  up  between 
great  banks  of  grass  and  mud  until  they 
came  to  a  town  lying  on  a  sloping  ground 
— a  close-huddled  town  of  red  roofs,  with 
a  church  overtopping  all.  They  sacked  the 
town,  and  had  all  the  plunder  to  share — 
white  women,  children,  cattle,  flocks  of 
sheep.  They  scorned  the  men  and  killed 
most  of  them.  They  drowned  the  headman 
by  tying  him  to  a  stake  in  the  channel  at 
low  tide.  Cormac  said  that  the  sea  came  up 
at  him  solid,  in  a  wall  of  brown  water,  curling 


CORMAC  GOES  TO  NUPSDALE  21 

at  the  edge.  It  brimmed  about  his  chin, 
and  then  filled  his  mouth  and  his  eyes. 
Then  you  saw  it  dimpling  over  the  top  of  his 
head;  and  then,  for  a  long  time,  the  wave 
he  made,  swaying  there,  slanted  over  the 
flood  from  bank  to  bank.  He  made  a  song 
about  the  women  whom  the  rovers  shared 
among  them,  and  held  the  company  spell- 
bound. 

Stangerd  lay  awake  listening  to  Cormac's 
singing. 

"Now  Stangerd  lay  abed  within 
The  house's  inmost  sanctuaries, 
With  both  her  hands  between  her  knees, 
And  them  drawn  up  towards  her  chin 
Touching  the  fulness  of  her  breast; 
And  her  wide  eyes  could  get  no  rest 
That  sought  the  dark  and  saw  clouds  float, 
Clouds  of  crimson  radiant  mist 
Which  gather'd,  mass'd  and  cours'd  above  her 
More  lovely  than  the  wings  of  the  West — 
If  such  wild  heart  should  turn  to  love  her, 
What  love-words  would  not  such  a  throat 
Pour  for  the  overwhelming  of  her!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

CORMAC  WILL  NOT  BUDGE 

|*N  the  morning  Cormac  went  out  of  the 
house  to  the  water-trough,  and  dipped 
his  head  half  a  dozen  times;  and  that 
was  the  best  of  his  washing.  Then  he 
goes  back  into  the  hall  and  finds  it  empty, 
but  voices  of  women  come  upon  him  from 
beyond  the  curtains,  and  one  of  them  is 
Stangerd's.  Straight  as  a  hawk  he  goes 
thither,  and  finds  the  women's  room,  and 
Stangerd  there  in  her  shift  and  petticoat, 
combing  her  long,  yellow  hair.  He  had 
never  seen  such  hair  in  his  life;  it  was 
gold  in  colour,  and  reached  below  her  knees. 
Her  arms  and  shoulders  were  very  white, 
but  her  neck  was  burning,  and  so  was  her 

22 


CORMAC  WILL  NOT  BUDGE  23 

face.  He  stood  looking  at  her  in  the  door- 
way. The  girl  whom  he  had  seen  over- 
night was  with  her — a  pale,  slim  girl,  with 
light  grey  eyes  and  a  laughing  mouth. 
Stangerd  went  on  with  her  affair,  but  this  girl, 
called  Herdis,  nudged  her,  and  whispered: 

"Here  is  the  fine  stranger  from  the  shore." 

But  Stangerd's  head  was  sideways  to  him, 
and  her  face  averted. 

Cormac  said  to  her,  "Will  you  lend  me 
the  comb  ?" 

She  looked  up  then,  tossing  her  hair  in 
a  wave  behind  her.  She  looked  very  boldly, 
but  her  colour  was  high.  She  held  him 
out  the  comb  without  saying  anything,  and 
began  to  rope  her  hair,  that  she  might  coil 
and  pin  it  with  a  pin. 

While  Cormac  was  combing  his  hair,  the 
girl  Herdis  stood  between  them,  and  said 
to  him,  "What  do  you  think  of  her  hair?" 

Cormac  said,  "It  is  like  the  silk  which  the 
worms  make,  when  it  is  fresh  carded." 

"What  hair  were  that  for  a  man's  wife 


24  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

to  have!"  said  Herdis.  "And  her  eyes — 
what  say  you  ?" 

Cormac  said,  "They  are  like  the  sea  when 
the  sun  is  behind  you  as  you  stand  wonder- 
ing at  it.  They  are  bluer  than  the  sky  when 
you  stand  in  a  narrow  valley  and  look  up." 

Stangerd  had  a  rope  of  her  hair  in  her  mouth, 
and  was  pinning  a  coil.  She  looked  from 
Herdis  to  Cormac  without  fear  or  confusion. 
Then  she  took  the  hair  from  her  mouth  and 
said:    "Have  you   not   done  valuing  me?" 

Herdis  laughed.  "My  dear,  we  have  not 
yet  cast  up  the  figures,  nor  even  set  them  all." 
Then  to  Cormac  she  said: 

"Do  you  set  a  price  upon  her?" 

Cormac,  looking  at  Stangerd,  said: 

"For  all  that  body's  loveliness 
I  would  give  Iceland,  and  no  less, 
And  all  the  lands  that  lie  between 
The  land  where  the  sun  is  never  seen 
And  the  roaring  Western  main; 
And  even  so  I  should  be  fain 
To  search  the  world  for  more  to  give — 
Yet  search  I  must  if  I  would  live!" 


CORMAC  WILL  NOT  BUDGE  25 

Stangerd  liked  this  song,  and  was  more 
gentle  in  her  ways.  She  looked  at  Cormac 
with  interest. 

"You  are  a  skald,"  she  said.  "I  knew 
that  yesterday.  I  heard  you  singing  in 
the  hall." 

"I  sing  when  the  words  and  music  come 
to  me,"  said  Cormac.  "Last  night  there 
was  no  trouble  about  it.  I  felt  very  greatly, 
and  so  sang  greatly." 

"I  heard  you,"  she  said,  "but  not  the 
words.     What  did  you  sing  about?" 

"My  dear,"  said  Herdis,  "can  you  ask 
him  that  ?" 

"Why  not,"  said  Stangerd,  "since  I  wish 
to  know  ?" 

"He  sang  about  you,"  said  Herdis. 

Stangerd  asked  him  fairly:  "Is  this 
true?" 

"It  is  not  true,"  Cormac  said,  "in  the 
v/ay  she  means  it.  Your  name  did  not  come 
into  the  song  I  sang.  But  the  summer- 
time   came    into    it,    and    the    yellowing   of 


26  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

the  corn-acres,  and  the  stillness  of  the  heat 
on  summer  mornings,  and  the  hush  of  the 
noons,  and  the  gentleness  of  the  evenings; 
and  the  rising  of  the  harvest  moon,  full 
and  hot,  and  the  brown  intake  she  makes 
about  her  in  the  sky.  All  these  things  were 
in  the  song — but  your  name  was  not  in  it 
at  all." 

Herdis  took  Stangerd's  arm,  and  the  pair 
of  them  stood  together  before  Cormac. 

Stangerd  asked  him  if  he  was  going  away 
that  morning. 

"How  do  I  know?"  he  said.  "It  may 
be  that  I  shall  be  here  talking  to  you.  It 
does  not  rest  with  me." 

Stangerd    smiled.      "Does    it    rest    with 


me 


?" 


Yes,"  said  Cormac,  "and  with  no 
other." 

"Here  is  one  coming,"  Stangerd  said, 
"who  may  wish  to  have  a  word  in  it." 

Toste  came  into  the  room. 

"It    is    time    we    were    away,    Cormac," 


CORMAC  WILL  NOT  BUDGE  27 

said   he.      "We   have   many   a   fell   to   beat 


over." 


The  eyes  of  Stangerd  and  Cormac  met. 
Then  Cormac  said: 

"It  is  written  that  I  stay  here  this  day. 
You  will  find  me  here  when  you  come  off 
the  hill." 

"Now  where  do  you  get  that  written?" 
said  Toste  with  a  grin. 

Cormac  said,  "It  is  written  in  the  heart 
of  Stangerd." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Stangerd,  "I  don't 
read  it  there." 

"But  he  does,"  said  Herdis,  and  Toste 
said  : 

"A  man  can  read  his  own  runes,  but  not 
what  is  in  the  heart  of  a  woman.  Well,  I 
wish  you  joy  of  your  day;  it  will  be  better 
than  mine." 

So  then  he  went,  and  Cormac  remained 
all  day  talking  to  Stangerd. 


28  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

In  the  evening  Toste  came  back  for  him, 
and  he  must  go. 

Stangerd  came  to  the  door  of  the  house 
with  him.  She  did  not  wish  him  to  go, 
but  she  said  nothing  about  it.  They  stood 
together  at  the  door  without  speaking. 
Stangerd  leaned  against  the  door-post,  and 
Cormac  was  near  her,  but  not  touching 
her. 

When  Stangerd  was  moved  her  cheek- 
bones showed  and  the  colour  was  fierce 
and  high  over  them,  as  if  she  had  been 
burned  there.  So  they  showed  now.  It 
grew  dusk,  but  still  Cormac  could  see  those 
patches  of  red  in  her  cheeks. 

He  said,  "It  grows  late,  and  I  must 
go  after  Toste.  When  shall  I  see  you 
again  r 

She  said,  "I  am  always  here.  You 
will  see  me  when  you  come  to  look  for 
me." 

Cormac  said,  "That  will  be  very  soon, 
I    am    thinking."      Then    he    said,    "Good- 


CORMAC  WILL  NOT  BUDGE  29 

night,  Stangerd,"  but  did  not  touch  her 
with  his  hand. 

She  said,  "  Good-night,  Cormac,"  and 
stood  there  a  long  time  after  he  had  gone 
in  the  gathering  dark. 

Herdis  came  to  her  bed,  and  would  have 
got  into  it,  for  she  wanted  to  know  all  about 
it;  but  Stangerd  pretended  she  was  sleepy, 
and  would  not  let  her  in. 


CHAPTER  V 

CORMAC  IN  LOVE 

/"^ORMAC  was  very  silent  at  home,  and 
remained  silent  for  several  days; 
but  he  was  intensely  happy,  feeling 
himself  in  bondage  to  Stangerd.  He  made 
up  more  situations  for  her  than  you  would 
believe,  and  was  not  himself  in  one  of  them. 
In  his  fancy  he  saw  Stangerd  beloved  by 
everything  in  the  world,  and  beloved  by 
everything  in  turn.  He  was  happy  enough 
in  this  possession  of  her  without  any  other, 
and  did  not  make  any  attempt  to  visit  her. 

After  a  while,  he  told  his  mother  of  his 
affair.     Dalla  looked  rather  grave. 

"I  hear  she  is  a  fine  girl,   much  sought 

after." 

30 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  31 

"She  is  a  beautiful  girl,"  said  Cormac, 
"and  most  reasonably  sought." 

"I  am  thinking  that  she  will  be  too  fine 
for  your  winning,  my  son.  Thorkel  will 
want  a  price  for  her.  And  he  is  no  great 
friend  of  ours." 

Cormac  said,  "There  is  no  hurry.  I 
shan't  speak  to  him  yet  awhile.  But  I 
shall  go  to  see  Stangerd  to-morrow." 

"And  what  shall  you  say  to  her?" 

"That  is  as  may  be.  If  I  feel  called 
upon  to  say  anything,  I  shall  say  it.  All 
that  I  need  now  is  to  see  her." 

+f*  ^C  rf*.  rj^  *f* 

He  went,  as  he  had  foretold.  He  reached 
Nupsdale  about  noon  and,  as  he  leaned 
over  the  wall  of  the  intake,  saw  Stangerd 
through  the  open  doorway  of  the  kitchen, 
and  two  men  with  her,  watching  her  while 
she  worked.  He  watched  her  for  a  long 
time,  speculating  which  of  the  two  fellows 
loved  her  more,  and  whether  either  of  them 
loved  her  as  he  did.    He  became  very  excited 


32  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

over  his  nearness  to  her,  but  had  no 
immediate  need  to  be  nearer.  The  home- 
stead seemed  to  him  a  holy  place;  every- 
thing about  it  was  enhanced  by  her  presence 
in  it,  moving  familiarly  about  it;  the  two 
young  men,  her  companions,  grew  tall  and 
splendid  to  him.  He  felt  more  interested 
in  them  than  he  had  ever  been  in  any  man. 
Then  he  sang,  as  the  song  moved  in  him: 

"I  love  a  lovely  woman — well, 
And  if  some  other  love  her,  good! 
All  goes  to  prove  my  hardihood, 
All  goes  her  magicry  to  tell. 
For  say  she  is  a  miracle, 
Say  that  her  beauty  is  my  food, 
Am  I  so  surly  in  my  mood 
That  what  feeds  me  rings  t'other's  knell? 
Nay,  should  a  hundred  be  about  her, 
And  she  of  her  great  bounty  feed  them, 
Is  that  to  say  my  heart  must  heed  them? 
Not  so.     'Tis  they  can't  do  without  her. 
Women  are  so  made,  they  grow  stouter 
Of  heart  the  more  their  lovers  bleed  them." 

He    felt    perfectly    at    ease.      He    wished 
the   young   men   very  well,   hoped   she  was 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  33 

kind  to  them,  "as  kind  as  she  was  to  me 
when  I  was  with  her  all  day."  The  thought 
of  that  day  came  back  upon  him  like  a 
flood  of  sudden  warm  weather.  His  heart 
beat.  "Oh,  I  am  a  fortunate  man — that 
such  a  beautiful  woman  should  be  kind  to 
me,  and  let  me  be  about  with  her  all 
day!" 

Presently  Stangerd,  having  finished  what 
she  was  about,  came  to  the  door  and  stood 
there;  she  leaned  against  the  doorpost. 
She  saw  Cormac  out  in  the  meadow,  but 
made  no  sign.  He  stood  still  looking  at 
her,  and  then  leapt  the  wall  and  came 
directly  to  her.  Two  dogs  rushed  out  of 
the  house,  barking  furiously;  but  he  took 
no  notice  of  them,  and  kept  his  eyes  upon 
Stangerd. 

She  coloured  up,  but  he  did  not.  He  came 
and  stood  before  her. 

"When  did  you  come?"   she  asked   him. 

"A  long  time  ago.  I  don't  know  when 
it  was." 


34  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"Why  did  you  not  come  to  the  house?" 

"Because  I  was  looking  at  you." 

"Will  you  come  in  now?" 

"I  will  come  in  if  you  are  going  in.  If 
not  I  will  stay  here." 

"My  foster-father  will  be  in  soon.  He 
will  ask  me  why  you  are  here." 

"You  may  tell  him,  if  you  please." 

"What  am  I  to  tell  him?" 

"That  I  am  come  to  see  you." 

"No— I  shan't  tell  him  that." 

He  laughed,  but  said  no  more  for  a  time; 
nor  had  she  anything  to  say. 

Then,  suddenly,  he  said,  "The  sun  is 
loving  you." 

"He  is  burning  me,"  she  said,  and  put 
her  hand  up  to  shade  her  face. 


*  *  *  * 


The  goodman  came  home  to  dinner,  and 
was  not  very  pleased.  Whatever  he  may 
have  asked  Stangerd,  he  took  little  notice 
of  Cormac,   but   ate  his   dinner  grimly  and 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  35 

soon  afterwards  went  out.  Cormac  stayed 
with  Stangerd  all  the  afternoon.  It  grew 
dark,  and  the  moon  came  up  over  the 
fiord. 

"Now  it  is  her  turn/'  Cormac  said. 
"She  will  light  me  down  the  fell;  but  her 
eyes  will  be  upon  you  all  the  time." 

Then  he  said,  "Will  you  come  to  the  end 
of  the  court  with  me?" 

"Why  should  I  come?" 

"The  night  is  blue,"  said  Cormac.  "I 
wish  to  see  you  in  the  night's  arms." 

Stangerd  said  nothing  to  this;  but  she 
went  with  him  into  the  air,  and  as  far  as 
the  end  of  the  court. 

He  told  her,  "I  shall  come  again 
to-morrow." 

"You  were  wiser  not,"  she  said. 

"It  is  necessary  for  me  to  see  you." 

"It  was  not  necessary  yesterday." 

"It  will  be  necessary  to-morrow." 

Again  she  had  no  answer,  being  neither 
able   to  agree  with  him  nor  to  deny.     He 


36  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

left  her  without  a  touch  or  a  look,  and  was 
gone  like  a  nightbird  into  the  dusk  that 
fleets  far  upon  one  stroke  of  his  silent 
wings. 

Stangerd  remained  where  she  was  for  a 
while.  Many  men  had  loved  her,  but  not 
in  this  fashion,  to  say  at  once  so  much 
and  so  little  about  it,  to  be  so  plain  and  so 
dark.  After  this  he  came  to  see  her  most 
days,  and  treated  her  in  just  the  same 
way. 

Stangerd  was  a  beautiful  girl,  richly 
coloured  and  finely  formed.  She  had  been 
admired  since  she  was  ten  years  old,  and 
had  often  been  told  so.  But  she  had  never 
been  admired  as  Cormac  admired  her,  and 
had  heard  nothing  like  his  admiration. 
Most  men  expressed  themselves  indirectly, 
by  look  or  inference,  by  silence,  by 
quarrelling  with  other  men.  If  they  told 
her  in  so  many  words  that  she  was  a  beauty, 
they  did  it  shamefacedly,  and  tried  to  make 
a  joke   of  it.      But   Cormac   from   the  first 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  37 

told  her  so  plainly,  and  seemed  to  devote 
himself  to  making  clear  to  her  exactly  how 
and  exactly  how  much  she  was  beautiful. 
He  was,  without  doubt,  making  it  clear 
to  himself,  but  she  couldn't  have  known 
that.  And  everything  that  he  told  her  was 
told  in  a  plain,  still  voice,  as  if  he  were 
speaking  about  the  weather  or  the  crops, 
as  indeed  he  thought  he  was. 

Naturally,  she  was  very  much  interested. 
Who  in  the  world  does  not  like  to  hear 
about  herself? 

He  told  her  some  very  strange  things,  too, 
which  she  did  not  at  all  understand,  but 
which  none  the  less  she  accepted  or  passed 
over  because  they  came  from  him.  She 
would  have  been  highly  offended  if  any 
other  man  had  so  spoken. 

He  said  that  everything  in  the  world  was 
her  lover.  He  said  that  in  rhyme,  and 
said  it  to  her  when  she  was  sitting  on  the 
brae  in  full  sunlight,  with  him  kneeling 
on  one  knee  behind  her.     She  felt  his  eyes 


3  8  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

bent  upon  her,  boring  like  two  augers  through 
the  top  of  her  head. 

"Great  joy  of  Stangerd  have  I  had, 
Joy  to  the  full  of  one  man's  tether; 
Greatly  have  loved  her,  hugely  dared, 
Riding  the  dales  or  upland  heather, 
Singing  her  bounty;   being  glad 
Because  her  blissfulness  I  shared 
With  every  other  mother's  son 
In  this  good  world:   for  this  is  true, 
Stangerd,  the  whole  world  joys  in  you. 

Let  her  have  husbands,  one,  two,  three — 

A  dozen  are  no  more  than  one: 

All  Nature  is  her  lord  in  fee, 

And  bird  and  hill-flower,  stock  and  stone, 

And  spearing  grass  and  springing  tree, 

The  clouds,  the  river  and  the  sun 

Hold  Stangerd  in  coparcenary. 

For,  as  I  look  upon  the  thing, 

Their  beauty  is  a  cup  for  hers, 

And  nothing  worth  considering 

But  what  they  tell  as  messengers 

Of  how  she  figures  in  their  glass. 

So  the  lark  lift  as  she  did  pass 

And  said,  'The  world  is  bright  with  glee 

Since  Stangerd  lookt  and  smiled  at  me; 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  39 

Therefore  I  sing' — or  grass,  'Her  feet 
Press  me  in  love  ! ' — or  flower,  '  How  sweet 
The  breath  of  Stangerd  when  she  goes 
With  parted  lips!' — or  tree,  'Who  knows — 
Passing,  she  laid  a  lingering  hand 
On  me,  and  doubtful  seemed  to  stand 
Whether  or  no  to  take  me  to  her; 
Who  knows  but  she  will  let  me  woo  her 
And  be  her  lover  in  the  dark 
When  the  sap  throbs  beneath  the  bark?'1 


She  sat  very  still  while  he  was  singing 
this,  nursing  her  cheek  in  her  hand.  Pres- 
ently she  said,  "You  say  curious  things  in 
your  songs.  I  think  I  ought  to  be  offended, 
but  I  am  not.  I  should  be  offended  if  I 
believed  them,  or  if  I  thought  that  you  be- 
lieved them." 

Cormac  said,  "You  are  wrong  there.  If 
you  thought  that  I  did  not  believe  them, 
you  would  have  cause  to  be  offended. 
But  I  know  them  to  be  true.  I  read 
them  in  the  face  of  things,  I  can't  be 
mistaken." 


40  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Then  he  sang  on: 

"So  did  the  cloud,  a  jealous  lover, 
Beshadow  her,  as  he  would  cover, 
And  prove  himself  her  bosom's  lord, 
And  make  a  guarded  woman  of  her — 
Had  not  the  sun  with  his  bared  sword 
Rent  him  with  gashes,  and  outpour'd 
His  courage  on  her;   the  which  the  river 
Rejoicing  saw:   *0,  thou  brave  giver 
Of  heart  to  horse,  and  horse  to  pasture,' 
Cried  he,  *I  hail  thee!     Warm  the  blood 
Of  Stangerd,  that  she  slip  her  vesture 
And  come  to  me,  and  know  my  flood!' 

She  grew  very  hot,  and  got  up  to  go. 
She  thought  he  was  following  her,  but  he 
was  not.  When  she  turned  to  look  for 
him  behind  her,  he  was  not  there;  and 
presently  she  saw  him  far  down  the  fell, 
springing  from  boulder  to  boulder,  going 
down  towards  the  sea. 

Another  day  he  told  her  that  she  was 
too  beautiful  to  be  the  wife  of  one  man. 
No  plain-minded  man,  he  said,  would  ever 
marry    her,    because    he    would    know    that 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  41 

he  had  neither  the  power  nor  the  right  to 
engross  so  rare  a  thing.  When  she  frowned 
and  bent  her  blue  eyes  upon  him,  and  pre- 
sently asked  him:  "Why,  what  would  you 
have  done  with  me?"  he  said  that  his  own 
opinion  was  that  she  ought  to  be  the  wife 
of  everybody.     Then  he  sang: 

'There  were  four  brothers  loved  one  lass — 
Ask  not  how  much  or  when  this  was. 
It  was  before  the  world  took  heed 
Of  more  than  how  to  serve  its  need. 

Their  need  was  sore,  her  bounty  such, 
They  askt  not,  nor  she  gave,  too  much: 
They  roamed  the  heath,  they  fought  and  kill'd; 
They  were  as  one  long  sword  and  shield. 

She  kept  the  house;   there  was  no  strife 
Within  doors,  such  a  sweet  housewife 
Was  she,  this  kindly  kindled  lass, 
Such  wife  as  no  man  living  has." 

Then  he  turned  his  head  and  looked  down 
upon  her  where  she  lay  wondering,  with 
her  face  between  her  hands.  "So  should 
you   be  the  whole  world's   wife,   since   you 


42  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

are  as  much  more  beautiful  than  she  was, 
as  she  in  her  turn  outwondered  the  women 
of  her  day.  You  should  live  in  a  temple 
by  yourself,  and  be  mate  of  every  man  who 
honestly  and  respectfully  commended  him- 
self. In  that  way  you  would  be  Goddess 
and  Bride  of  all  Iceland  and  Goddess 
and  Mother  too.  You  would  wear  the 
Girdle  of  Fricka.  No  other  woman  would 
be  thought  of  at  all — which  is  as  it  should 
be.  Some  day  soon  I  will  make  a  song 
about  that."  She  moved  away,  saying 
that  he  must  not. 

What  was  she  to  make  of  it  ?  She  pre- 
tended to  be  angry,  but  was  not  so  at  all, 
for  she  knew  that  he  meant  it  for  a  high 
compliment. 

So  the  winter  passed  and  the  spring 
came  on;  and  so  the  year  wore  to  the 
summer.  Cormac  spent  most  of  the  time 
with  Stangerd,  but  did  not  declare  himself 
in  any  way  that  you  could  take  hold  of. 
It    seemed    that    he    talked    to    Stangerd    as 


CORMAC  IN  LOVE  43 

if  she  were  a  beautiful  landscape,  a  cornfield 
in  heavy  ear,  or  the  fell  when  the  heather 
was  in  flower,  or  a  birch-wood  in  early 
spring,  or  the  firth  in  the  quiet  of  dawn. 
He  never  scrupled  to  say  that  she  was  as 
lovely  as  any  of  these,  or  that  everything 
in  nature  loved  her.  It  never  occurred  to 
him  to  say  that  he,  in  particular,  loved  her. 
As  for  asking  for  her,  Stangerd  was  sure 
that  such  a  thought  had  never  entered 
his  head.  Meantime — she  fed  upon  his  talk 
as  if  it  were  bread  and  honey. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DOINGS  AT  TONGUE 

Yt/'HEN  Thorkel  of  the  Tongue  heard 
what  was  going  on  at  Nupsdale,  he 
went  up  there  after  his  girl.  He 
did  not  see  Cormac,  but  he  called  Stangerd 
to  him,  and  said:  "I  hear  that  Cormac 
of  Melstead  is  often  up  here  after  you. 
Now   come   you   back   with   me,    my   girl." 

Stangerd  said  that  she  was  ready. 

"Yes,"  said  her  father,  "it  seems  to 
me  that  you  are  ready  for  many  things. 
All  in  good  time  and  one  thing  at  a  time. 
Let  all  be  done  in  order  and  with  decency." 

So  he  brought  her  home  to  Tongue,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  Cormac  heard  that 
she  was  there,  and  went  to  see  her. 

44 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  45 

Thorkel  saluted  him  fairly,  and  passed 
the  time  of  day  with  him,  thinking  that 
he  would  judge  for  himself  how  things  were 
going  to  turn  out.  Cormac  sought  out 
Stangerd  and  talked  to  her  so  long  as  the 
daylight  lasted.  Thorkel  watched  him  closely, 
and  didn't  know  well  what  to  make  of  it. 
He  didn't  know,  for  one  thing,  why  Cormac 
irritated  him  so  much;  but  presently  he 
found  out.  It  was  because  the  young  man 
did  not  know  he  was  there.  It  was  because 
he  behaved  as  if  the  whole  house  held  nobody 
but  Stangerd  and  himself.  Thorkel's  house, 
mind  you,  and  (if  you  come  to  that)  Thorkel's 
daughter.  No  man  could  be  expected  to 
like  that. 

And  so  it  went  on  for  a  time,  and  Stangerd 
used  to  watch  for  Cormac's  coming,  and  to 
take  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  he  should 
be  with  her  in  whatever  business  she  might 
have,  and  sit  with  her,  and  talk.  Many 
men  were  in  the  hall  at  Tongue,  for  it  was 
a  busy  place.     But  when  Cormac  was  there, 


46  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Stangcrd  saw  no  other  person,  and  Cormac 
saw  none  but  her.  The  world  indeed  held 
but  the  pair  of  them,  as  it  seemed. 

Thorkel  said  little,  but  he  did  not  like  it, 
and  did  not  like  Cormac,  who  seemed  to 
him  too  free  of  his  house  and  child.  He 
was  a  shrewd  man  of  few  words,  and  did 
not  believe  in  Cormac.  Such  words  as  he 
let  out  were  not  hard  to  understand,  and 
there  were  those  about  him  who  made  the 
most  of  them. 

There  was  a  rough  man  named  Narve 
who  was  about  the  place,  and  there  were 
worse  than  he.  The  two  sons  of  Thorveig 
the  spae-wife  were  very  often  at  Tongue 
after  Stangerd:  the  eldest  of  them  was 
called  Ord,  a  blusterous  young  customer 
always  at  rough  play.  Stangerd  had  no 
liking  for  him,  and  Cormac  at  this  time  no 
jealousy  at  all;    but  Ord  was  very  jealous. 

However,  Narve,  who  was  a  fool,  was 
the  one  that  began.  He  said  to  Thorkel 
one    day:     " Master,    it's    not    hard    to    see 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  47 

that    Cormac's    visitings  are    not    to    your 
taste." 

"Who  told  you  that?"  Thorkel  asked 
him. 

"My  wits,"  said  Narve. 

Thorkel  said,  "I  am  glad  they  are  of 
some  use  to  you.  They  are  not  far  out 
this  time.  I  know  no  harm  of  Cormac, 
yet  I  wish  he  would  leave  my  girl  alone." 
He  can  be  taught  that,"  Narve  said. 
As  how?" 

In    the   old   way,"   said    Narve;    "by  a 
better  man  than  himself." 

Thorkel  glanced  at  him.  "Do  you  mean 
by  you,  perchance?" 

Narve  said  "I  do." 

Thorkel  had  nothing  to  say  to  that; 
then  Narve  went  on: 

"Do  you  give  me  leave  to  deal  with 
him?" 

Thorkel  said,  "You  need  no  leave  of 
mine.  Deal  with  him  how  you  can — or  if 
you  can." 


a 


48  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Narve  took  this  for  more  than  leave, 
and  set  his  wits  to  work  to  provoke  Cormac. 

The  year  was  wearing  to  the  close.  The 
harvest  was  all  in,  the  sheep  were  in  pen, 
and  the  cattle  in  byre.  Now  was  the  time 
when  men  were  killing  beasts  for  salting 
against  the  winter.  At  Tongue  that  was 
Narve's  work  in  particular;  but  everybody 
was  very  busy. 

Cormac  came  in  there  one  evening  and 
looked  about,  as  he  always  did,  for 
Stangerd.  She  was  not  in  the  hall,  but  in 
the  kitchen,  where  the  work  was  going  on. 
She  had  covered  herself  with  a  great  apron 
and  was  busy  with  the  rest.  Narve  was 
stirring  a  cauldron  of  black  puddings  and 
watched  the  pair.  They  met  without 
greeting;  Stangerd  scarcely  looked  at  Cor- 
mac, but  was  very  much  aware  of  him; 
as  for  Cormac,  he  did  not  take  his  eyes 
from  her,  but  went  and  stood  by  her,  very 
close.  Narve  could  not  see  that  they  had 
much  to  say  to  each  other,  and  judged  that 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  49 

matters  were  beyond  speech.  Stangerd 
went  on  with  her  work  under  the  eyes  of 
Cormac.  Presently  Narve  called  out  to 
Cormac:  "Hither,  runagate,  and  see  my 
snakes  in  the  kettle." 

Cormac  looked  over  to  him.  "What  am 
I  to  see  ?" 

"Come  and  see  how  they  boil  and  bubble. 
See  them  all  in  love  with  one  another. 
They  can't  leave  each  other  alone." 

Cormac  frowned,  but  he  went  to  the 
cauldron.  Narve  stuck  his  prong  in  and 
fished  out  a  pudding.  "Kettle-snakes,  I 
call  them,"  he  said.  "Wrigglers  and 
hankerers.  What  do  you  think  of  them?" 
He  stuck  the  hissing  morsel  under  Cormac's 
nose,  grinning,  gleaming  at  the  eyes. 

"Why,  I  think,"  said  Cormac,  "that  I 
could  see  you  writhing  in  there  after  a  few 
more  [of  your  speeches — but  you  would 
foul  the  broth,  and  there  are  shorter  ways 
with  you." 

Narve    said,    "The    shorter    the    better." 


50  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Then  Cormac  took  him  suddenly  by  the 
ear,  and  cuffed  him  soundly,  and  flung 
him  away.     Narve  went  out  of  doors. 

Ord  came  in  among  them,  and  went  to 
Stangerd,  where  she  was  salting  the  meat. 
He  nodded  to  Cormac,  but  spoke  to  her: 
"Oh,  Stangerd,"  he  said,  "you  should 
be  out  on  the  brae.  The  moon  is  coming 
up,  and  the  evening  is  very  still  and 
warm." 

Stangerd  said  she  was  too  busy;  and 
then  Cormac  said,  "She  will  go — but  not 
with  you." 

"With  whom,  then?"  said  Ord  with  a 
hot  face. 

"With  me,  then,"  said  Cormac. 

Ord  clacked  his  tongue  on  his  palate,  but 
held  his  ground,  red  and  furious,  as  he  well 
may  have  been,  seeing  he  had  known  her 
the  longer,  and  considered  her  in  a  sense 
his  own.  Cormac  also  was  troubled — not 
angry,  but  troubled  because  his  sense  of 
intimacy  was  gone.     Yet  very  soon  another 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  51 

thought  took  possession  of  his  mind.  It 
was,  that  it  was  a  beautiful  thing  to  see  a 
beautiful  girl  beset  by  lovers  or  admirers. 
He  saw  how  calm  and  unconcerned  she 
appeared,  going  on  with  her  rubbing,  with 
two  flaming  and  fuming  youths  about  her. 
He  doubted  if  self-possession  went  deep;  he 
guessed  that  within  her  her  heart  was  drum- 
ming a  lively  measure.  But  her  outward 
bearing  was  noble.  She  seemed  not  to  have  a 
care  in  the  world  but  the  rubbing  in  of  salt; 
and  then  he  thought  of  her  as  the  bountiful 
Earth  itself,  the  mother,  the  adored,  the 
need  of  all  men.  He  was  inspired,  and 
he  sang  of  her: 

"Well  do  they  call  you  Sleeping  Gold, 
Since  no  man  lives  but  cannot  see 
The  light-flung  glory  which  you  hold 
As  Erda  holds  her  majesty, 
A  thing  of  little  worth,  the  fee 
Of  whoso  asketh,  being  bold. 
Let  him  draw  nigh,  the  well  is  free, 
Say  you,  the  fire  for  who's  acold: 
Let  him  drink,  warm  himself  of  me. 


52  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Your  heart,  0  Stangerd,  you  hold  up 
For  asking  men;   they  need  but  need — 
There  is  no  bottom  to  the  cup, 
There  is  no  pauper  but  may  feed. 
So  in  your  calm  eyes  each  may  read 
The  truth  he  asks,  if  he  be  true — 
So  to  your  arms  all  come  indeed 
And  die,  as  they  have  lived,  of  you — 
And  your  gold  sleeps,  and  takes  no  heed." 

Stangerd  bent  to  her  work,  but  she 
flushed,  hearing  this  song.  She  felt  that  she 
did  not  yet  know  Cormac,  and  that  she  must 
either  pretend  that  she  did,  or  drive  him  to 
explain  himself.  She  did  not  wish  to  do  this 
before  Ord,  lest  Ord  should  think  less  of  her. 
So  she  bent  to  her  task  and  said  nothing. 

But  Ord  fretted  and  fumed,  then  broke 
into  scoffing. 

"The  skald  is  bold  enough — with  the 
tongue.  Women  take  words  for  deeds, 
I  believe.     But  men  don't." 

"Some  men  do,"  said  Cormac.  "Narve 
is  one.  You  have  not  yet  been  tried.  But 
you  may  come  to  it." 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  53 

"And  if  I  come  to  it,  Cormac,  what 
then?"     Ord  put  back  his  shoulders. 

"If  I  tell  you,"  said  Cormac,  "that  is 
tongue-work.     But  you  ask  for  deeds." 

Ord  glared  at  him,  very  red,  working  his 
tongue  about.     Then  he  turned  away. 

"I  won't  ask— I'll  do,"  he  said.  So  Cor- 
mac held  his  place. 

But  Stangerd  was  cross.  "You  should 
not  sing  of  me  so,"  she  said,  "before  other 
men.     I  am  ashamed." 

"Of  what  are  you  ashamed  ?  Of  me  ? 
That  can  hardly  be.  If  I  belittled  you,  or 
held  you  cheap,  you  might  well  be  ashamed. 
But  if  I  declare  your  glory?" 

"You  don't  choose  to  understand  me. 
You    talk    of — you    talk    of   my    eyes " 

"Of  course  I  talk  of  them  since  I  see 
them,  and  think  of  them  all  night,"  he  said. 

" and    of   my    arms,    as    if — I    was — 


I  don't  know  what." 

"It  is  very  possible  that  you  don't  know 
what  you  really  are,"  Cormac  said.  "But 
I  shall  tell  you  before  I  have  done  with  you." 


54  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"You  may  tell  me  what  I  please  to  hear," 
said  Stangerd  with  heat;  "but  you  shall 
not  talk  before  other  men  of  my  person. 
It  makes  me  ashamed. " 

Cormac  threw  up  his  head.  "0  warmth 
of  the  Earth !  O  heart  of  the  World ! 
There  is  no  part  of  your  person  of  which 
you  need  be  ashamed.  You  might  mate 
before  the  eyes  of  all  men  at  the  Thing, 
and  you  would  but  blind  them  with  your 
splendour.,, 

She  bit  her  lip,  but  her  eyes  looked 
kindly  at  him;  and  presently  she  went 
with  him  to  the  door,  and  stood  without 
it  in  the  dark  with  him. 

And  they  both  stood  trembling  together, 
and  presently,  without  word  said,  they 
turned  and  kissed. 

"Eye-level  and  heart-level  they, 
And  mouth-level;   but  till  that  day 
Never  had  been  what  now  must  be: 
Kissed  mouth  to  kissing  mouth  is  fast, 
And  two  hearts  beating  to  one  tune. 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  55 

Breathless  and  speechless  for  their  boon, 
They  cling  together;   but  they  kiss 
No  more;   but  mouth  and  mouth  co-mix 
And  make  one  being  at  the  lips. 
And  all  burnt  splendour  of  the  moon 
Throbs  with  the  heat  of  burning  noon." 

That  was  the  first  time  that  ever  Cormac 
kissed  Stangerd,  and  it  was  the  first  of 
many.  For  after  that  she  let  him  take  her 
in  his  arms  and  kiss  her  as  he  would,  and 
bless  Heaven  for  having  made  her,  and 
cry  to  the  stars  to  shoot  from  their  sockets 
and  make  a  wreath  for  her  head.  And 
she  herself  kissed  him  once  or  twice,  and 
prayed  him  not  to  be  foolish,  and  believed 
that  he  was  not. 

***** 

Cormac  marched  singing  on  his  way  under 
the  stars.  He  went  by  the  shore  of  the 
firth,  and  before  he  left  the  water  he  went 
in  up  to  his  middle,  and  soused  his  head 
and  shoulders.  He  laughed  suddenly,  think- 
ing of  Narve. 


56  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"The  scullion  and  his  kettle-snake! 
What  ailed  him  and  his  blister'd  tongue  ? 
Will  he  scrape  me  with  his  muck-rake, 
Scatter  me,  as  he  scatters  dung 
About  the  meadow  ?    And  the  house 
That  holds  her  harbours  that  wood-louse ! 
Salmon  and  gudgeon  in  one  lake, 
One  tree,  sea-eagle  and  titmouse !" 

Then  he  went  home  to  bed. 

But  at  Tongue,  over  the  fire,  Thorkel 
sat  frowning  while  he  heard  what  Narve 
had  to  say. 

"The  fellow  is  dull,"  said  Narve,  "or 
he  shams  dullness.  I  showed  him  as  plain 
as  I  could  speak  that  we  had  had  more  than 
enough  of  him.  I  insulted  him;  but  no ! 
It  needs  more  than  words." 

"He  had  you  by  the  ear,  I  understand," 
Ord  said;  and  Thorkel  said,  "You're  not 
man  enough." 

Narve  flamed.  "Man  enough!  I'll  show 
him  how  much  of  a  man  I  am — when  there 
are  not  women  in  the  room.  But  there 
was    Stangerd    and    a    maid    or    two    more, 


DOINGS  AT  TONGUE  57 

and  you  know  what  girls  are  about  these 
things !  Bloodshed  ?  No,  no.  Not  before 
women.     Don't  ask  me  to  do  that." 

Ord  said  to  Thorkel,  "My  brother  and 
I  are  at  your  service  when  you  want  us." 

Thorkel  said,  "There's  room  here  for 
a  ready  hand,  seemingly.  Come  up  here 
to-morrow,  the  pair  of  you,  and  we'll  have 
him  out  of  it." 

They  laid  a  plot  between  them  before 
they  went  their  ways.  Narve  said  that 
he  was  ready  for  anything,  and  Ord  said 
he  would  bring  in  his  brother  Gudmund. 


CHAPTER  VII 

FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE 

PHEY  laid  a  trap  for  Cormac  at  Tongue, 
which  Stangerd  perceived,  though  she 
did  nothing  to  prevent  it,  since  not  a 
word  was  said  of  him  throughout  their  prep- 
arations. You  do  not  ask  a  girl  who  respects 
herself  to  talk  of  her  heart-concerns  to  men. 
She  will  never  do  it.  She  would  as  soon 
undress  herself  before  them.  Moreover, 
her  father  was  about  the  house  all  that 
afternoon,  the  last  person  in  the  world  to 
whom  she  could  talk  of  Cormac. 

The  first  thing  was  that  Ord  and  Gudmund 
came  to  Tongue  carrying  weapons  of  war. 
They  had  swords  and  shields.     With  them 

came    Narve,    who    had    been    out    in    the 

58 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  59 

meadow  since  dinner-time,  looking  for 
them.  He  brought  a  scythe  over  his 
shoulder. 

They  shut  the  front  door,  and  shot  one 
of  the  bolts.  Then  the  scythe  was  hung 
upon  a  nail,  with  the  blade  across  the 
entry,  and  on  the  other  side  of  it  two  nails 
were  driven  aslant,  so  that  a  sword  leaning 
upon  them  cut  across  the  corner  of  the 
door  itself.  Both  of  these  things  must 
fall  when  the  door  was  opened.  Such 
preparations  were  made,  and  the  men  sat 
about  drinking  mead,  not  saying  very  much 
above  a  whisper. 

Ord  tried  to  sit  with  Stangerd,  who  had 
her  yarn  to  wind,  but  she  was  very  indignant, 
and  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  him. 
Thorkel  came  in  and  out,  but  towards  the 
time  when  Cormac  might  be  looked  for, 
he  went  into  the  kitchen,  and  waited  there, 
peering.  Stangerd  saw  him  through  the 
crack  of  the  door.  She  continued  to  wind 
her  yarn,   and   busied   herself  over  it.     She 


60  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

had  no  fear,  however,  for  Cormac:  it  was 
not  that  which  troubled  her.  She  was 
convinced  of  his  better  mettle  and  more 
fortunate  star.  It  would  take  stronger, 
stiller  men  than  Ord  to  put  him  down. 
But  she  was  enraged  at  the  injustice  of 
her  father,  that  he  should  abet  Ord's 
jealousy,  and  knowing  nothing  against 
Cormac,  yet  take  rank  against  him.  Because 
he  didn't  relish  song-making,  was  song- 
making  therefore  shameful  ?  Her  heart 
burned  in  her  breast,  and  the  edges  of  her 
cheek-bones  burnt  her  cheeks. 

The  barking  of  the  dogs  declared  the 
coming  of  her  lover.  Narve,  the  fool,  could 
not  keep  still.  He  jumped  in  the  air  and 
cracked  his  fingers.  Ord  and  Gudmund 
looked  at  each  other,  but  said  nothing. 
Then  presently  they  heard  Cormac's  step 
in  the  court,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice 
singing. 

The  door  was  tried.  He  found  it  bolted. 
He  drave  against  it  with  some  staff  or  other 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  61 

which  he  was  carrying.  Gudmund  tiptoed 
to  the  door  and  shot  back  the  bolt.  Cormac 
drave  into  it  again  with  his  staff,  and  it 
flew  open.  The  scythe  and  the  sword  came 
down  together  and  met  in  midway,  falling 
with  a  clash  and  shiver.  Scythe,  being 
heavier,  brake  sword.  Cormac  stood, 
smiling  and  bright-eyed,  looking  on.  He 
saw  Stangerd  in  her  white  gown,  and  was 
going  directly  to  her  over  the  wreckage 
at  the  door  when  Thorkel  bounced  out. 

He  was  in  a  high  rage.  He  shook  his 
hand  at  Cormac.  "You  worthless  rascal ! 
You  night-worker,  get  you  gone !  What 
have  you  been  to  this  house  but  a 
cause  of  scandal  and  bitterness  ?  Get  you 
gone  with  your  mouthful  of  folly  and 
wind !" 

Cormac  laughed  pleasantly,  and  made  him 
worse. 

"You  grin,  you  grin,  you  bitch's  whelp! 
But  there  shall  be  a  ruefuller  grinning  for 
you  before  long." 


62  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  went  into  his  hall,  and  took  Stangerd 
by  the  arm.  "Up  with  you,  mistress,  and 
come  with  me.  Here  is  mischief  enough 
for  your  fine  eyes.    There  shall  be  no  more." 

She  had  risen,  red  and  troubled  herself. 
Holding  her  by  the  upper  arm,  he  bustled 
her  through  the  hall  and  out  by  the  women's 
door.  He  thrust  her  into  the  byre,  and 
shut  the  door  upon  her,  locking  her  in. 
"Stay  there,  till  we  have  scared  out  this 
gadfly  skald,"  he  said. 


* 


Meantime  Cormac  had  gone  into  the  hall. 
Narve  was  not  there;  but  at  the  further 
end  he  saw  the  two  brothers,  with  their 
bare  swords  on  their  knees. 

"What  is  afoot?'3  he  asked,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other;    but  they  said  nothing. 

He  stood  doubtfully,  looking  first  at  them, 
and  then  about  the  hall,  next  at  the 
ruins  on  the  floor.  He  stirred  them  with 
his  toe. 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  63 

"When  scythe  and  broad-sword  come  to  blows, 
Plain  men  take  heart,  and  meadow-grass. 
But  there's  no  pasture  for  the  ass, 
However  fair  the  home-mead  grows. 
Cudgel  your  wits,  I'll  cudgel  your  hides, 
Ye  greedy  pair  of  hoody  crows." 

They  sat  glum,  glowering  at  him  from 
beneath  their  brows.  So  far  Cormac  had 
not  been  in  a  rage,  but  now  he  got  suddenly 
angry.     He  walked  up  to  the  brothers. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  foolery  ? 
What  have  I  done  to  Thorkel  or  to  you 
that  I  should  be  received  in  this  manner?'3 

Ord  said,  "You  are  not  wanted  here. 
Is  it  not  plain  enough  ?  What  more 
can  a  man  do  than  take  his  daughter 
out  of  the  house  the  moment  you  come 
into  it?" 

Cormac  answered  him:  "He  can  see 
that  worse  men  than  myself  are  out  of  it 
first.  But  he  lets  his  house  fill  with  smeary 
scamps,  and  then  bolts  them  in  lest  he  lose 
one  of  them.     You  are  none  of  you  fit  to 


64  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

sweep  the  floor  for  Stangerd's  feet.  You 
make  that  foul  which  was  only  gritty  with 
good  dust  before.',  He  turned  suddenly 
and  saw  Narve  in  the  entry  of  the  Bower. 
In  a  flash  he  was  upon  him,  and  had  him 
by  the  ear.  "You — dish-washer — where  is 
Stangerd  ?"  He  screwed  his  ear  round, 
and  Narve  writhed. 

"She's  locked  up  in  the  byre  then,"  he 
said  in  a  hurry. 

Cormac  loosed  him,  and  went  straight 
through  the  house  and  out  of  the  women's 
door,  where  the  maids  were  clustered  to- 
gether, and  saw  him  go.  He  shook  the 
door  of  the  byre,  and  called,  "Stangerd, 
are  you  there  ?" 

She    answered    him,    "Yes,    I    am    here." 

"I  must  see  you,"  he  said;  but  she  said, 
"No,  no,  you  can't  get  in." 

"Can  I  not?"  said  Cormac,  and  took  a 
short  run  and  butted  into  the  door  with 
his  shoulder.    It  burst  at  the  lock. 

She  was   alarmed;    her  eyes  were  bright. 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  65 


"Oh,  you  are  mad  to  act  so!  My  father 
will  set  on  you." 

"He  will  not,  then,"  said  Cormac,  and 
took  her  in  his  arms.  He  had  never  been 
so  eager  to  hold  and  kiss  her  before.  He 
had  always  seemed  afraid  of  her,  but  now 
he  was  not  at  all  afraid.  Stangerd  was 
glad  of  him,  and  very  proud.  Her  father 
did  not  come  near  them,  and  there  they 
stayed  till  it  grew  dusk.  Then  she  bade 
him  go  for  fear  they  should  set  upon  him 
in  the  dark;  and  Cormac  himself  thought 
it  was  the  better  way. 

"Farewell,  my  sweet,"  he  said,  with  his 
lips  to  hers.  "I  think  I  never  loved  you 
like  this  before." 

"No,"  she  said,  kissing  him. 

"You  were  Goddess  to  me,"  he  told  her; 
"but  now  you  are  woman." 

"I  like  it  better,"  she  said. 

He  felt  a  sudden  chill  at  the  heart.  He 
knew — something  told  him  certainly — that 
it  was  not  so  good  a  way.    Then  he  left  her 


66  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

and  went  through  the  house  to  go  home. 
The  house  was  empty  so  far  as  he  could 
see. 

Beyond  the  court  there  were  the  meadows 
stretching  downwards  to  the  brook,  with 
stone  walls  about  them.  Then  came  the 
valley-bottom  where  rushes  grew  and  some 
sycamore-trees.  Beyond  the  water  the  hill 
rose;  and  here  was  your  path  if  you  were 
going  to  Melstead. 

Stangerd  went  to  the  door  presently, 
and  watched  Cormac  go  through  the 
meadows. 

He  went  fast,  vaulting  wall  after  wall. 
She  wasn't  sure,  but  she  believed  that 
Thorveig's  sons  were  waiting  for  him  in 
the  bottom.  When  Cormac  came  to  the 
last  wall  she  was  sure;  for  he  stood  on  the 
top  of  it  and  remained  standing  for  a  while. 
Then  when  he  jumped  down,  and  she  could 
only  see  his  head  and  shoulders,  she  saw 
the  men  come  out  of  the  trees.  Her  father 
was    not    one    of    them.      They    were    Ord, 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  67 

Gudmund,  and  Narve.     Ord  aimed  a  spear 
at  him.    She  saw  it  fly. 

***** 

Cormac  had  seen  the  ambush  before  he 
got  to  the  last  stone  wall.  He  stood  on  it 
that  the  ambushmen  might  know  that  he 
saw  them  and  come  out  into  the  open.  They 
all  came  out  together,  but  when  they  were 
within  hurling  distance,  they  separated. 
Narve  hung  back  in  some  alder  bushes, 
Gudmund  went  to  the  left,  and  Ord  to  the 
right.  Cormac  jumped  off  the  wall  and 
went  between  them.     He  had  an  axe. 

Ord  ran  a  little  way  forward  and  hurled 
his  spear.  Cormac  met  it  with  the  axe,  and 
it  glanced  off  and  stuck  in  the  moss.  Then 
Gudmund,  who  had  been  running,  doubled 
up,  came  behind  him  to  cut  him  off  from 
the  wall;  but  Cormac  was  too  quick  for 
him,  and  was  on  him  like  a  gust  of  wind. 
He  swung  his  axe  as  the  spear  came,  and 
cut  it  in  half  as  if  it  had  been  a  bulrush; 
then  he  whirled  the  axe  round  backhanded 


68  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

and  caught  Gudmund  in  the  neck  with  it, 
and  brought  him  down.  If  he  had  not  been 
giving  ground  at  the  moment  his  head  had 
been  off.  As  it  was,  the  blade  did  not  hit 
true;  but  he  gushed  blood  from  nose,  mouth, 
and  ears,  and  fell  like  a  stone. 

Cormac  turned  and  waited  for  Ord,  who, 
having  shot  his  spear,  now  came  at  him 
with  a  sword. 

Stangerd,  watching  by  the  door,  turned 
quickly  when  she  heard  a  man's  foot  in  the 
hall,  and  saw  her  father  coming  out  with 
his  bill.     Her  eyes  burned. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  father?" 
she  said. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,  you !"  he  answered; 
but  she  would  not.  She  came  to  him  and 
caught  both  his  wrists.  He  raved  at  her; 
but  she  held  on. 

"You  shall  not — you  shall  not!  It  is 
shameful  to  be  four  against  one." 

He  swore  he  would  be  the  death  of  her; 
but  she  cared  nothing  now. 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  69 

Narve  came  up  the  court  on  tiptoe,  white 
as  a  cloth.  "Master,  hold  you  there!  'Tis 
all  over,"  he  said.  "Cormac  has  slain  Ord, 
and,  as  for  Gudmund,  I  doubt  he'll  never 
move  again.  Fierce  work!  Bloody  work!" 
He  stared  about  him  at  the  dusk.  "We 
set  our  feet  on  a  snake.  That's  what  we 
did.  And  he's  bitten  us  to  the  bone." 
Then  he  shuddered,  and  covered  his  face. 
Stangerd  let  go  of  her  father's  wrists  and 
went  into  the  house. 

***** 

It  was  true.  Ord  was  no  match  for 
Cormac  with  any  weapon;  and  sword  has 
no  chance  with  axe  if  the  axe-bearer  knows 
his  business.  He  never  touched  Cormac, 
who,  after  two  feints,   split  his  head  open. 

This  was  the  first  man  Cormac  had  ever 
killed.  He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  body, 
his  rage  having  left  him,  and  then  went 
over  to  the  brother. 

He  believed  him  to  be  dead  too;  but 
he  was  not  actually  dead,  though  he  died  in 


70  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

a  few  days.  His  rage  had  left  him — no, 
not  his  rage,  for  he  had  had  none.  He  had 
been  very  excited.  That  moment  on  the 
wall  when  he  saw  the  three  come  out  of 
the  trees  had  been  the  greatest  pleasure 
he  had  ever  known.  But  now  all  this  was 
gone,  and  a  feeling  of  disgust,  as  if  he  had 
tasted  something  sour  and  stale,  was  in  him. 
There  seemed  a  tarnish  upon  Stangerd's  gold. 
He  would  not  think  of  Stangerd. 

He  found  his  axe-haft  wet  with  Ord's 
blood,  and  the  space  'twixt  forefinger  and 
thumb  was  wet  too.  He  shuddered  once 
or  twice.  It  was  all  a  nasty  business.  He 
wondered:  Should  he  leave  those  two 
things  alone  there  under  the  stars,  or  sit 
by  them  until  it  was  light  ?  Gudmund's 
face  showed  in  the  dark — for  it  was  almost 
night  by  now — as  if  there  was  a  light  within 
it.  But  Ord's  case  was  the  worse.  Ord 
had  no  face  now — only  horrible  parts  of  a 
face.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  at  Ord, 
or  help   looking   at   him.      He   took   off   his 


FIGHTING  AT  TONGUE  71 

coat  and  covered  Ord's  head  and  shoulders 
with  it.  For  Gudmund  he  had  to  content 
himself  with  boughs  from  a  sycamore-tree. 
He  was  very  careful  of  them,  having  no 
feeling  against  them.  They  had  attacked 
him;  he  had  provoked  nothing — but  he 
did  not  feel  at  all  justified.  A  beastly 
business — and  Stangerd  involved  in  it.  To- 
morrow he  would  tell  their  mother;  for 
the  present  his  coat  was  testimony  enough 
that  this  was  no  murder. 

He  went  home  full  of  thought;  but  no 
verses  came  into  his  head,  since  none  were 
in  his  heart.  He  told  his  brother  what 
he  had  done.  Thorgils  said  there  was  no 
shame  to  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE 

HPHORVEIG,  the  mother  of  Ord  and 
Gudmund,  was  a  grave,  heavy 
woman  with  thin  hair  and  light  eyes, 
wide  open,  which  seemed  always  to  be 
looking  at  things  which  were  not  there. 
They  were  like  dead  eyes.  The  tale  says 
that  she  knew  too  much.  Certain  it  is 
that  when  Cormac  rode  to  see  her,  accom- 
panied by  his  testimony,  betimes  in  the 
morning — certain  it  is  that  she  had  Ord 
laid  out  for  burial  and  Gudmund  in  bed. 
She  was  sitting  by  the  dead  when  they 
came  to  the  door.  It  was  covered  with  a 
sheet,  as  it  had  need  to  be. 

Cormac   said   what    he   had    to   say.      "I 

72 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE  73 

was  attacked  from  an  ambush;  I  defended 
myself.  It  was  unprovoked  on  my  part, 
and  well  you  know  it.  I  offer  no  atonement 
nor  ransom  for  this  dead  man,  and  I  require 
you  to  leave  our  land  as  soon  as  may  be, 
and  carry  yourself  and  your  evil  seed  else- 
where." 

She  watched  him,  but  said  nothing. 
Thorgils  added  his  testimony.  "I  am  with 
Cormac  in  this,  Thorveig.  I  know  that 
he  did  nothing  against  Ord.  If  you  doubt 
of  that,  do  you  ask  Thorkel  of  Tongue,  or 
his  man  Narve,  who  was  of  the  ambush 
too,  but  never  came  to  blows.  And  when 
Cormac  says  that  you  must  leave  our  land, 
I  am  with  him  there  also.  We  will  not 
have  enemies  at  our  doors." 

Then  Thorveig  got  up  and  said:  "111 
fall  him  who  takes  land  from  another,  but 
worse  fall  them  who  take  again  what  they 
have  freely  given.  Think  not  you,  Cormac 
Ogmundsson,  to  prosper  in  these  ways. 
True  enough  you  can  get  me  gone  from  the 


74  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

hundred;  like  enough  you  will  not  ransom 
my  sons.  But  I  have  that  within  me  to 
put  me  even  with  you  yet.  You  think 
you  have  cleared  your  way  to  Stangerd  by 
such  doings.  You  are  a  fool,  then,  for  you 
will  never  have  her." 

Cormac  looked  as  if  he  would  laugh  at 
her;  but  he  changed  his  mind.  "The 
settlement  of  such  a  thing  is  not  with  you, 
woman,"  he  said. 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "you  are  right  there. 
It  is  with  you,  and  I  see  it  in  you,  and  know 
it.  And  this,  too,  I  see:  that  the  foolishest 
thing  you  ever  did  was  to  fall  foul  of  me  and 
mine.  It  will  come  to  pass  also  that  you 
will  wish  me  back  at  Melstead  before  many 
years  are  gone  over.  These  things  I  see, 
but  you  cannot  see.  Now  get  you  gone 
with  your  friends  and  leave  me  with  my 
dead." 

With  that  she  sat  down  by  the  covered 
corpse,  and  Cormac  rode  away. 

***** 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE  75 

He  did  not  go  to  Tongue  that  day,  nor 
the  next,  though  he  thought  of  Stangerd, 
and  never  had  her  out  of  his  mind.  He 
wandered  about  the  country  by  himself, 
asking  of  himself  why  he  did  not  go  to  see 
her.  He  hungered  and  thirsted  for  her; 
he  was  sure  of  that.  But  it  was  a  new  kind 
of  love — it  was  more  than  love,  or  less.  It 
was  a  craving.  He  knew  what  he  had 
felt  when  he  brake  open  the  door  of  the 
byre,  and  took  her.  He  knew  that  he  should 
feel  that  again  directly  he  was  in  her 
neighbourhood.  To  look  at  her  with  eyes 
of  desire,  not  with  eyes  of  wonder;  to  hold 
her  close,  to  kiss  her  long;  to  need,  more 
and  more,  never  to  have  done — all  this 
she  could  call  out  of  him  now;  but,  in 
the  doing,  she  would  lose  her  first  power 
over  him,  to  evoke  amazement  and  delight, 
to  reveal  to  him  glory  and  power.  One 
thing  or  the  other,  but  not  both.  How 
was  it  to  be  ?  He  thought  of  these  things 
all   day   and   went   to   bed   with   them.     In 


76  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

the  morning  he  woke  up  to  find  them  all 
about  the  bolster  like  flies.  He  made  a 
bitter  song,  wherein  she  suffered  as  much 
as  he  did. 

"This  is  not  love  that  drains  me — nay, 
This  is  to  crave.    O  girdled  Fricka, 
Dare  I  come  near  thee  with  lips  gray 
For  need  of  thine,  and  hot  tongue-liquor 
Where  once  my  mouth  was  clean  to  pray  ? 

I  would  go  back !    There  is  no  way 
To  thin  the  blood  I  have  made  thicker; 
Save  scratch  for  itch  is  no  allay. 
The  flame  is  at  its  dying  flicker, 
Blown  by  hot  breath,  it  cannot  stay. 
Speed  it  with  scorn,  that  it  die  quicker — 
Alas,  the  hour!    Alas,  the  day!" 

But  there  was  another  thing:  He  must 
go  to  Tongue  to  show  Thorkel  that  he  was 
as  good  a  man  as  he,  and  not  one  to  be 
scared  off  by  a  door-trap.  He  must  go 
to  Tongue,  as  his  right  was;  and  if  it  was 
his  pleasure  to  talk  to  Stangerd,  he  would 
do  it,  let  come  what  might — even  if  so  to 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE  77 

do  were  to  cheapen  her.  And  thus  he  left 
it,  and  thus  it  was  when  he  did  go  up  to 
Tongue. 

He  got  scowling  looks  from  Thorkel,  and 
very  scared  looks  from  Narve  in  response 
to  his  pleasant  greeting.  From  Stangerd 
he  got  little.  She  was  rather  cool,  he 
thought;  whereas  the  truth  was  that  she 
was  conscious  of  her  company  and  conscious 
of  herself.  Men  had  been  fighting  for  her, 
and  here  she  was  now  in  the  presence  of 
two  of  them,  and  of  a  third,  you  may  say, 
since  her  father  would  have  been  a  fighter 
if  she  had  not  stopped  him.  All  this 
made  her  shy  and  awkward.  She  could 
not  feel  herself  that  day;  it  was  now 
for  Cormac  to  begin.  But  Cormac  did  not 
begin. 

He  was  with  her  most  of  the  morning, 
saying  little.  He  felt  that  a  look  from 
her,  a  sigh,  however  little,  would  set 
him  blazing  like  dry  hay.  But  he  did  not 
get  it,  and  he  began  to  wonder  whether  he 


78  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

wanted  it.  He  watched  the  play  of  her 
hands  at  the  loom,  he  watched  the  light 
show  silvery  on  her  chin  and  neck  as  she 
moved  about.  He  had  glimpses  of  her 
deep  blue  eyes;  while,  as  for  her  hair, 
he  bathed  in  the  golden  glow  and  strength 
of  that.  She  was  indeed  a  burning  lass; 
but  she  was  not  what  she  had  been  at 
first — a  light  and  wonder  of  the  earth. 
Tears  came  to  his  eyes  as  he  remembered 
his  first  estate,  and  knew  it  lost  for  ever. 
And  yet  he  loved  her,  and  could  not  keep 
away  from  her. 

He  began  to  judge  her.  He  thought  she 
was  slow  to  move,  somewhat  insensible; 
he  felt  sure  that  she  did  not  love  him.  To 
be  sure,  it  was  some  testimony  to  a  girl, 
lovely  as  she  might  be  (and  was,  God 
knew),  that  a  man  should  dare  a  houseful 
to  see  her,  and  fight  single-handed  against 
three.  It  was  not  much — poetry  was  much 
more — but  it  was  something.  And  she 
reckoned   it   for  nothing,   and  waited   to  be 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE  79 

wooed.  But  had  she  not  been  wooed  by 
that  fighting  ?  He  went  away  early,  and 
did  not  ask  her,  since  she  did  not  offer,  to 
come  to  the  door  with  him. 

Next  day  he  was  in  a  black  mood  and 
most  wretched.  He  did  not  go  to  Tongue, 
which  was  a  remarkable  thing  in  these  days. 
His  mother  waited  for  him  to  speak,  but  as 
he  would  not,  she  herself  began  upon  the 
affair,  and  got  short  answers  from  him. 
Presently  she  said,  "I  will  tell  you  this, 
my  son.  It  was  not  thus  that  your 
father,  a  captain  of  men,  wooed  me." 

"Why,  what  did  he?"  said  Cormac. 

"He  saw  me  at  a  wrestling,  and  spoke 
to  me  before  it  was  over.  Then  he  went 
to  your  grandfather  and  asked  for  me,  and 
gave  gifts;  but  I  only  saw  him  through 
the  half-open  door,  for  my  mother  kept 
me  in  the  Bower.  He  went  away  without 
asking  for  me,  and  came  rarely  to  the  house. 
He  used  to  say,  'There  is  time  enough. 
You  will   find   me  a  good  husband   to  you. 


8o  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

I  should  not  have  asked  for  you  if  I  had 
not  believed  that.  All  I  see  of  you,  and 
all  I  hear,  satisfies  me.  I  am  a  man  of 
full  measures,  not  of  half.  Wait  until  the 
wedding-day  and  trust  to  me.'  That  I  did. 
Your  father  was  a  true  man  of  his  word, 
and  his  deeds  suited  his  words,  as  a  sword 
lies  in  a  sheath." 

"He  was  a  true  man,"  said  Cormac; 
but  he  thought  in  his  bitterness,  "That 
was  a  way  to  buy  cows  at  a  fair,  but  not 
to  love  a  woman."  He  went  out  by  himself 
on  to  the  heath;  but  Stangerd  called  him 
from  afar,  and  he  rose  up  presently  and 
went  to  a  place  whence  he  could  see  the 
house  and  steading  at  Tongue,  settling 
down  into  the  dusk.  "It  is  a  wonderful 
thing  that  within  those  walls  is  the  love- 
liest body  upon  earth,  sitting  on  a  bench, 
leaning  by  the  board.  Men  are  about  her 
insensible  of  her  glory,  not  trembling  in 
the  air  which  is  about  her.  And  I,  who 
know    and    tremble    even    here,    I    am    so 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S   CURSE  81 

cursed  that  I  cannot  go  down  there  and 
tell  my  knowledge !  This  is  madness  in 
me,  and  must  be  fought.  To-morrow  I 
go  and  claim  her  of  Thorkel.  But  my 
father's  way  will  not  suit  me.  I  shall  do 
it  in  my  own  way."  He  rose  up  and  went 
home  comforted. 

So  much  for  what  was  to  be  a  bad  business. 
He  thought  nothing  of  the  spae-wife  and 
her  curse  upon  his  doings.  He  was  too 
disturbed  to  think  of  anything  or  anybody. 
He  seemed  to  be  groping  about  with  scummed 
eyes.  There  was  a  blur,  a  tarnish  upon 
everything.  The  pity  of  it — with  the  glory 
so  new ! 

*  *  *  *  # 

But  as  for  the  spae-wife  herself,  it  is  told 
of  her  that  after  a  while  she  buried  her  sons 
— for  Gudmund  never  got  better,  and  died 
without  knowing  her  again — and  crossed  the 
hills  into  Sowerby  and  came  to  the  house 
of    a    strong    man    called    Berse.     To    him 


82  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

she  told  her  tale,  that  her  sons  had  been 
killed,  weregild  refused  her,  and  she  turned 
out  of  her  holding  by  the  slayer.  "There- 
fore," said  she,  "I  come  to  you,  Berse, 
because  you  are  a  just  man." 

Berse  sat  well  back  in  his  leather-seated 
chair,  and  laid  the  ankle  of  one  leg  upon 
the  knee  of  another,  and  twirled  his 
thumbs. 

"Who  was  the  man  that  slew  your 
sons  ?" 

She  told  him.  "It  was  Black  Cormac 
Ogmundsson,  who  lives  in  Midfirth." 

Berse  blinked.  "I  have  heard  tell  of 
him.  His  father  was  a  great  Viking,  and 
died  ashipboard.  Now  wherefore  did  he  so 
to  your  sons  ?" 

"They  got  bickering,"  she  said,  "over 
Stangerd,  Thorkel's  daughter." 

Said  Berse,  "From  breaking  hearts  to 
broken  sconces  there  is  a  short  and  straight 
road.  I  will  wager  that  Cormac  was  no 
more    forward    on    it    than  -your    sons.     If 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE  83 

I  don't  blame  them,  I  don't  blame  him 
either." 

She  said  nothing  to  that,  but  waited 
on  where  she  was. 

Berse  said,  "That  girl  of  Thorkel's  is 
a  fine  girl,  I  hear." 

Thorveig  said  she  was.  "But  they  will 
spoil  her,"  she  said,  "with  all  this  quarrelling 
about  her.  Yet  Cormac  will  never  have 
her — that's  certain." 

"Who  says  so?"  said  Berse. 

She  answered,  "I  say  so.  I  know 
it." 

Berse  went  on  twirling  his  thumbs  for  a 
time.  Then  he  said,  "Well,  you  shall 
have  land  of  me.  I  know  nothing  against 
you.  There  is  a  steading  down  on  the 
firth — a  good  small  house  and  intake. 
You  shall  have  that.  It  has  a  staithe  into 
the  water,  and  there  are  some  boats  go 
with  it.  You  shall  have  that — but  remember, 
I  don't  blame  Cormac  Ogmundsson.  I  am 
the     last    man    to    do    it.     They    call    me 


84  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Battle-Berse,  Holmgang  Berse.  I'm  a  fight- 
ing man  myself." 

The  spae-wife  said,  "And  you  will  have 
more  to  do  yet,  Berse,  with  your  charmed 
sword." 

"Get  along  with  you,"  said  Berse,  rather 
pleased  with  her.  "I  am  not  so  young 
as  I  was,  and  Whiting  keeps  the  fireside 
nowadays."  Now  Whiting  was  his  famous 
sword,  with  which  he  had  fought  thirty 
wagers-of-battle  and  won  them  all.  It  had 
a  magical  stone  in  the  hilt,  and  was  said 
never  to  lose  its  edge. 

"Look  to  Whiting,"  said  the  spae-wife, 
"and  you  won't  be  sorry."  She  thanked 
him  for  his  open-handedness,  but  he  only 
said,  "Get  along  with  you." 

She  took  up  her  abode  in  Berse's  ferry- 
house,  which  is  called  Bersestead  to  this 
hour.  It  was  a  good  house  upon  the  further 
shore  of  Ramfirth,  with  a  haven  and  a  mole. 
Boats  lay  snug  there.  There  was  a  ferry, 
and  many  men  used  the  place  to  cross  over 


THE  SPAE-WIFE'S  CURSE  85 

the  water  to  go  into  Sowerby.  Berse  himself 
used  it,  for  his  own  house  was  far  from  the 
water,  high  up  in  the  hills  of  Sowerby.  You 
can  see  it  from  the  staithe,  like  a  patch  of 
snow  afar  off;  and  a  great  force  of  water 
near  by. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  PLIGHTING 

^PHORKEL  spoke  to  Stangerd  about 
Cormac.  It  was  on  the  evening  of 
the  day  after  the  battle,  when  he  had 
gone  early.  "My  girl,"  he  said,  "what 
is  wrong  with  this  man  of  yours?" 

She  flushed,  and  looked  away  from  him. 
Her  eyes  were  cloudy.  "He  is  no  man 
of  mine,"  she  said. 

"Well,"  said  Thorkel,  "he  slew  a  couple 
of  fine  fellows  last  night,  and  I  suppose  that 
was  not  for  nothing." 

She  flashed  him  a  look.  "He  was  set 
upon  by  three  at  once — and  there  would 
have  been  a  fourth  at  him  but  for  me." 

Thorkel   could   not   deny  it.     "And  what 

86 


THE  PLIGHTING  87 

is  to  be  done  now?"  he  asked  her  instead. 
"Is  he  to  make  free  of  my  house,  and  of 
you;  to  sit  here  scowling  at  you,  looking 
you  over,  and  no  one  to  say  a  word  ?  Are 
you  not  ashamed  to  be  so  treated  ?  If 
your  brother  were  here,  things  might  go 
differently,  I  think.  They  don't  call  him 
Toothgnasher  for  nothing." 

Stangerd  was  angry;  her  cheek-bones 
showed  it.  She  twisted  her  hands  about 
and  stared  out  of  doors.  "Cormac  would 
not  be  afraid  of  his  teeth,"  she  said.  "He 
has  teeth  of  his  own,  and  has  shown 
them." 

"Little  sense  has  he  shown  in  this  affair," 
says  Thorkel.  "What  does  he  mean  by 
his  singing  and  nonsense  ?  He  calls  you 
every  sounding  name  he  can  get  at,  and  talks 
two-score  to  the  dozen.  He'll  tell  you  by 
the  hour  together  what  he  is  going  to  do 
with  you — and  you  suffer  it.  He  sets  you 
up  sky-high,  but  can't  see  you  because 
your  head  is  in  the  clouds.     What  do  you 


88  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

make  of  it,  you  who  are  a  sensible  girl,  or 
were  so  before  he  ran  on  about  your  good 
looks?" 

Stangerd  looked  stormy,  but  handsomer 
than  ever.  Her  father  could  not  but  notice 
how  fine  she  was,  with  her  rich  colour  and 
golden  hair  and  dark  blue  eyes.  But  she 
had  not  much  to  say  because  she  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  Cormac  herself,  and 
she  had  a  feeling  that,  sweet  as  his  kisses 
were,  she  ought  not  to  allow  them  until 
he  declared  himself.  Cormac  had  a  way 
with  him  which  was  hard  to  resist.  He 
had  a  way  of  looking  at  her  with  narrow 
eyes,  and  of  saying,  "0  Stangerd,  how 
sweet  and  lovely  you  are!" — and  of  taking 
her.  She  found  that  very  pleasant.  But 
what  baffled  her  was  that  at  another  time 
he  would  treat  her  as  if  she  was  unearthly 
— a  being  of  the  other  world — and  as  if  he 
dared  not  to  touch  her  at  all.  Lastly,  there 
was  his  manner  of  to-day,  when  he  had 
sat    dull    and    troubled    before    her,    neither 


THE   PLIGHTING  89 

looking  at  her  nor  avoiding  the  sight  of 
her,  but  preoccupied,  with  his  thoughts 
elsewhere. 

Meantime  Thorkel  had  nothing  to  conceal. 
He  did  not  understand  Cormac  any  better 
than  she  did;  but  he  did  not  want  to 
understand  him. 

"I  see  that  you  choose  to  sulk  with  me," 
he  said;  "but  look  you  here,  my  girl.  If 
this  man  of  yours  comes  after  you,  he  must 
deal  with  me  for  you;  and  let  him  get  it 
into  his  head  that  I  will  not  have  my 
daughter  talked  about.  That  would  be  a 
disgrace  upon  my  house  which  I  should  not 
put  up  with.  If  he  don't  want  you,  let 
him  say  so,  or  prove  it  by  keeping  out  of 
your  way.  I  can  get  a  husband  for  you 
any  day;  and  so  I  shall  if  I  am  to  be 
bothered  by  this  hankering  and  moon- 
gazing." 

With  that  he  took  himself  off. 

***** 


90  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

In  the  morning  she  was  troubled,  finding 
the  need  of  Cormac,  and  she  did  what  she 
had  never  yet  done.  She  went  out  across 
the  meadows  and  on  to  the  fell-side  to  look 
for  him.  There  was  a  fine  rain  falling, 
but  the  light  was  behind  it,  and  it  was 
more  like  silver  mist  than  rain.  She  saw 
him  coming  and  went  down  to  meet  him. 
The  rain  was  shining  in  her  hair;  her  cheeks 
and  lips  were  wet.  He  saw  her  in  his  turn, 
and  his  feet  answered  to  the  leap  of  his  heart. 
They  met  without  words;  but  he  took 
both  her  hands.  She  could  not  look  at 
him,  but  let  him  hold  her  hands.  She  felt 
the  might  of  his  eyes,  and  liked  the 
feeling. 

Presently  he  said:  "Stangerd,  now  you 
shall  tell  me  truly  why  you  have  come  out 
to  meet  me." 

She  hung  her  head  and  would  not  let 
him  see  her  face.  But  he  did  see  it.  She 
was  burning  red. 

"By  that,"  he  said,  "you  have  answered 


THE   PLIGHTING  91 

me.    And  now  I  ask  you  this — Whom  would 
you  choose  to  wed  ?" 

After  a  little  she  shook  her  fear  from 
her  and  showed  him  her  face.  The  love- 
light  was  in  her  eyes,  and  made  her  bold. 
"I  should  choose  to  wed  the  blind  woman's 
son,"  she  said. 

Cormac  was  very  grave.  "You  have 
chosen  as  you  ought,"  he  said.  "You 
have  chosen  me,  who  have  courted  you 
long.  So  it  shall  be."  He  drew  her  in 
and  put  his  arm  about  her.  So  they  stood 
awhile  together.  Then  Cormac  stooped  his 
head  to  her,  and  kissed  her  mouth.  He 
did  it  just  so,  deliberately,  and  without 
passion.  No  words  were  said.  She  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  it.  His  mood  was 
very  strange. 

They  went  together  to  the  house,  and 
by  degrees  Cormac's  tongue  was  loosened 
and  he  told  her  of  the  battle,  and  spoke 
of  his  glumness  of  the  other  day.  "I  felt 
as   if  I    had   been    enticed   into  cheapening 


92  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

you  by  that  bout.  I  felt  on  a  level  with 
those  snarling  swine — one  of  a  pack 
about  your  skirts.  I  felt  that  I  had  been 
digging  a  dyke  between  you  and  me;  it 
was  full  of  black  sludge  and  slipping  eels. 
When  I  loved  you  first  you  were  glorious 
to  me — as  you  are  to-day;  but  yesterday 
there  was  a  skin  over  my  eyes.  I  did  not 
see  you  glorious.  If  I  cannot  love  you 
well,  I  will  not  love  you  at  all.  You 
shall  be  more  than  wife  to  me — or 
nothing." 

He  kissed  her  very  often  after  that  and 
comforted  her.  She  was  not  bewildered 
any  more,  and  could  talk  to  him  freely. 

"Will  you  not  make  peace  with  my  father 
now?"  she  asked  him.  "Do  it  for  my 
sake.  He  says  hard  things  to  me,  and 
I  can't  answer  him  for  fear  he  may  say 
what  I  could  not  bear." 

Cormac  promised  her  that,  and  she  was 
pleased.  "Nobody  could  refuse  you  any- 
thing  when    you    are    like    that,"    she    said. 


THE   PLIGHTING  93 


"Ho!"  said  he;  "but  I  shall  not  kiss 
your  father." 

"If  you  are  friendly  to  him,  he  will  take 
it  well,"  she  told  him.  "You  are  of 
good  fortune — as  good  as  he  is — and  of 
good  descent.  That  is  what  he  will 
look  to." 

"Such  things  mean  little  to  me,"  said 
Cormac.  "The  best  thing  I  can  say  for 
myself  is  that  you,  who  might  choose 
the  King  of  Norway,  choose  me,  Cormac 
Ogmundsson  of  Melstead." 

She  laughed.  "You  must  find  a  better 
thing  to  say  than  that.  If  I  don't  believe 
you,  how  shall  he?" 

"Shall  I  make  you  believe  me,  Stan- 
gerd?"  he  said  with  eagerness. 

But  she  would  not  let  him.  "Ask  for 
me,"  she  said,  "as  the  custom  is,  and  not 
in  the  way  of  skalds  and  minstrels.  He 
does  not  like  your  rhyming  about  me." 

"But  you,  Stangerd,  are  pleased  when 
I  sing  of  you  ?" 


94  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

She  thought  for  a  little  while,  then 
cast  herself  upon  his  breast.  ''Oh,"  she 
said,  "I  am  pleased,  whatever  you  do 
with  me." 

Then  he  said  fondly:  "I  will  tell  you 
what  I  would  do  with  you  now,  Stangerd. 
I  would  carry  you  in  my  arms  out  of  the 
house,  and  through  the  meadows,  and  up 
into  the  fells.  I  know  a  place — a  high 
place  where  there  is  a  holm,  and  the  grass 
grows  green,  and  there  are  tall  trees,  and 
within  them  a  hush.  And  there  I  would 
wed  you  upon  a  bed  of  rock-rose,  under 
the  stars.  And  I  would  build  you  a  house 
there,  and  make  an  altar  of  stones  before 
it,  and  keep  a  fire  of  fragrant  wood  burning 
there  perpetually.  Nobody  should  see  you 
for  a  long  time  but  the  sun,  the  moon,  the 
stars,  and  me.  And  you  should  be  loved 
as  never  woman  was  loved  before,  your 
body  by  my  body,  and  your  spirit  by  mine. 
When  you  were  a  mother,  I  would  summon 
all  men  to  come  and  do  you  worship.     And 


THE   PLIGHTING  95 

the  songs  I  would  make  of  you  would  go 
all  over  the  world,  and  your  name  would 
be  whispered  about  like  the  name  of 
Fricka,  the  goddess  who  gives  love  and 
life  to  men." 

She  blushed  at  his  ardent  talk,  and 
welcomed  it,  for  she  was  susceptible  to 
his  moods,  though  she  did  not  at  all  under- 
stand them,  and  knew  that  this  was  the 
one  that  became  him  best.  "Oh,"  she 
said,  "what  wild  words !  But  you  must 
woo  me  as  a  girl  and  not  as  a  goddess. 
Therefore  you  shall  ask  for  me  properly 
of  my  father,  and  then  you  shall  take  me 
where  you  will." 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  will  do  it;  but  it 
is  proper  to  have  witnesses  and  upholders 
with  me.  Therefore  I  will  come  to-morrow 
with  my  brother  Thorgils,  and  then  every- 
thing will  be  in  order.  But  for  all  that 
I  should  like  it  best  that  I  might  carry  you 
away  now  in  my  arms." 

She    believed    that    that    was    very    true, 


96  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

but    she   had    an   orderly   mind,    and    could 
not  consider  such  wild-goose  plans. 

He  stayed  with  her  till  it  grew  dark,  and 
then  left  her.  She  felt  very  much  drawn 
to  him;  more  than  she  had  ever  been  when 
he  was  away  from  her,  for  his  power  was 
strong  upon  her  when  he  was  with  her, 
and  seemed  little  when  he  had  gone.  But 
now  she  knew  that  she  had  desire  of  him 
and  was  ready  for  the  day  when  he  should 
take  her  home  to  Melstead.  For  all  her 
beauty  and  high  colour  she  was  a  slow- 
blooded  girl;  nobody  had  ever  stirred  her 
as  Cormac  had  now  done.  Many  men  had 
courted  her,  and  she  had  been  pleased  with 
their  attentions,  and  flattered  by  them; 
but   this   man   had   awoken   the   woman   in 

her. 

$  &  $  $  $ 

As  for  Cormac,  he  went  homewards  with 
feet  of  lead.  He  had  no  idea  what  was  the 
matter  with  him;  but  matter  there  was. 
Once  he  stopped  short  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 


THE   PLIGHTING  97 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  I  leave 
Stangerd,  the  wonder  of  the  world,  her 
accepted  lover,  and  my  heart  is  like  cold 
plum-pudding.  And  at  the  sheep-homing, 
after  I  had  been  a  day  with  her,  I  came 
flying,  with  feet  that  scarcely  touched  the 
heather  tufts !  What  is  this  ?  She  is  the 
same — nay,  she  is  more  beautiful  than  she 
was.  She  is  like  golden  fruit  upon  a  wall. 
To  lie  in  the  arms  of  Stangerd  is  a  thing 
scarce  to  be  thought  of — to  love  her  at  night 
under  the  stars — a  man  might  go  mad 
waiting  for  such  a  joy.  But  I  am  not 
mad;  though  now  I  wait.  There  is  some- 
thing the  matter  with  me.  When  I  talk 
to  her  of  her  beauty  I  grow  by  degrees  to 
believe  it;  but  when  I  think  of  it,  or  see 
it,  I  don't  believe  it.  And  yet  I  am  the 
same  man  that  I  was;  I  am  that  Cormac 
who  believed  because  he  knew.  Am  I  so 
truly  ?  If  I  am  not — but  I  tell  you  that 
I  am.  Love  her  ?  Ah,  but  I  do  love  her 
— I   do — I   tell   you   I   do."     Then   he  went 


98  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

on  his  way,  but  at  the  edge  of  his  heart 
there  was  fear  like  a  blanket  of  fog, 
threatening  to  muffle,  and  deaden,  and 
stifle  it. 

He  told  his  mother  and  brother  about  his 
doings,  and  asked  Thorgils  to  go  with  him 
on  the  morrow  to  ask  for  Stangerd.  Thorgils 
said  he  would  certainly  go;  and  "They 
say  that  you  have  got  a  fine,  tall  girl  for 
a  wife,  and  a  handsome  girl,  and  a 
good  one." 

"She  is  all  that,"  Cormac  said,  "and 
much  more  than  that.  I  believe  she  is 
the  most  beautiful  girl  that  ever  was 
born." 

Dalla,  his  mother,  shook  her  head.  "I 
shall  never  see  her;  but  I  shall  tell  by  the 
feel  of  her.  I  hope  she  is  even-tempered; 
for  your  wife  will  need  to  be." 

Cormac  said,  "I  am  sure  that  she  has 
given  me  her  heart.  I  am  sure  that  she 
has  mine  in  exchange.  With  that,  all  is 
well,  I  take  it." 


THE   PLIGHTING  99 

"If  you  are  sure  of  these  things,  all  is 
well  indeed, "  said  Dalla. 

Cormac  grew  hot. 

"It  does  not  become  you  to  doubt  me. 
I  tell  you  again  that  I  have  loved  her  so 
much  that  I  have  slain  two  men  to  prove 
it.  I  have  loved  her  night  and  day.  I 
have  made  good  songs,  I  have  been  in  great 
heart.  Love  has  made  me  taller  than  other 
men.  When  I  first  saw  her  it  seemed  to 
me  that  she  was  like  the  core  of  light — 
that  strong  light  enclosed  her  like  a  sheath 
— and  that  she  lay  quivering  within  it  like 
a  sword." 

"All  this,"  said  his  mother,  "is  very 
fine,"  and  put  Cormac  into  a  rage. 

"Ah,  you  scoff  at  my  way — as  if 
by  a  lip  curled  back  you  could  refute 
a  lover.  Well,  you  must  find  out  for 
yourself  how  much  I  love  her.  You  will 
have  time." 

"I  shall  find  out,"  Dalla  said.  But 
Cormac  had  gone  out  of  the  house. 


ioo  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Dalla  stretched  out  her  hands  to  the 
fire.     "I  am  not  contented,"  she  said. 

Thorgils  looked  troubled.  "It  was  a 
bad  piece  of  work  that  he  outed  Thorveig. 
I  backed  him,  because  I  could  not  do  other- 
wise. But  he  was  wrong.  Her  ill-condi- 
tioned   boys    were    dead.      He    might    have 

left  her  alone.     He  has  never  been  the  same 

if 
since. 

"Nay,"  said  Dalla,  "she  would  have 
cast  misfortune  upon  him  because  he  would 
not  pay  a  ransom." 

"A  bad  business,"  said  Thorgils,  "a  bad 
business.     He'll  take  it  hard." 

Said  Dalla,  "Do  you  take  me  to 
Thorveig.     The  spell  must  be  moved." 

"Too  late,"  said  Thorgils. 

Dalla  did  her  best  to  hearten  him. 
"Cormac  is  moody  by  nature;  there  may 
be  no  spell  at  all." 

Thorgils  said,  "I  doubt  that  she  has  done 
it.  She  read  it  into  him.  She  has  the 
second  sight." 


THE   PLIGHTING  101 

Next  day  they  rode  over  the  hill  to 
Tongue,  to  ask  for  Stangerd.  Three  of  them 
went — Cormac,  Thorgils,  and  Toste  the 
reeve.  They  took  gifts  with  them — a  fine 
saddle,  scarlet  cloaks  embroidered  with  gold 
and  blue,  and  long  horns  for  drinking,  with 
golden  covers  and  chains — treasure  of 
Ogmund  the  Viking,  long  laid  up  for  such 
a  use.  They  found  Thorkel  sitting  in  his 
hall,  in  his  finest  clothes,  on  the  dais, 
surrounded  by  his  men  and  his  friends. 
He  loved  things  to  be  ceremonious. 
Stangerd  was  not  present. 

Cormac  asked  squarely  for  her,  promising 
a  good  price.  "I  set  this  sum  upon  her," 
he  said,  "not  because  it  represents  her 
worth,  which  is  to  me  beyond  human  prices; 
but  because  it  is  the  custom." 

"She  is  worth  a  good  price,"  Thorkel 
said. 

One  of  the  company  added:  "She  is  the 
best-made  girl  I  ever  saw."  Another  said: 
"Many  would  be  after  her  if  they  knew  she 


102  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

was  to  be  had.  Or  Thorkel  might  take  her 
to  Norway  and  find  some  earl  glad  to 
have  her." 

Cormac  chafed,  and  looked  very  black, 
biting  his  cheek. 

"The  less  we  say  about  prices  the  better," 
he  said.  "I  have  complied  with  custom, 
to  serve  you.     But  I  can't  go  on  with  it." 

"All  in  order,  Cormac,"  Thorkel  said. 
"Law  is  law,  and  money  is  money." 

So  the  talk  ran  on  in  this  fashion;  and 
then  Thorkel  said,  "This  will  want  thinking 
about — a  deal  of  thinking  it  will  want. 
It  seems  to  me  that  your  offer  should  be 
stretched.  If  my  son  Toothgnasher  were 
here  he  would  say  so — that  I  know.  But 
he  is  on  the  sea,  levying  war.  Should  he 
come  home  in  the  spring  with  a  good 
cargo,  that  will  make  us  look  foolish — to 
have  bargained  away  his  sister  to  the  first 
comer.  Toothgnasher  sets  great  store  by 
Stangerd.  We  must  think  of  the  absent 
as  much  as  we  can." 


THE   PLIGHTING  103 

Toste  said,  "Our  land  is  as  much  as 
yours,  and  much  of  it  is  better.  Your 
girl  will  be  no  loser  by  coming  to  Melstead." 

"Nay,  it  is  I  will  be  the  loser,  it  seems," 
Thorkel  said — and  his  friends  took  his 
side. 

Cormac  was  beside  himself  with  rage. 
"You  shall  finish  this  talk  without  me," 
he  said.  "My  brother  knows  more  of  such 
matters  than  I  do.  By  your  leave,  I  will 
go  and  see  Stangerd."  Whereupon  he 
broke  away  from  the  company  and  went 
through  the  door  which  led  to  the  Bower. 
She  was  there  at  the  loom,  other  girls  with 
her.  She  looked  strangely  at  him.  Her  eyes 
were  like  blue  flowers. 

Cormac  went  to  her  and  kissed  her, 
not  very  gently.  "Stangerd,  they  are 
haggling  over  you  as  if  you  were  a  heifer. 
Such  things  sicken  me.  You  and  I  know 
what  is  to  be,  and  those  dealers  can  never 
know.     Give  me  your  hand.'* 

She  did.     He  put  a  ring  upon  her  finger. 


104  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"That  is  a  token,  my  love,"  he  said.  "Let 
them  do  their  foulest.  I  have  gone  to  work 
in  my  own  fashion.  Speak  to  me  now  and 
tell  me  what  I  wish  to  hear." 

She  asked  him.  "What  is  it  that  you 
wish  to  hear?" 

"Ah!"  said  Cormac,  "if  you  don't  know 
that  by  this  time,  I  can  hardly  tell  you 
before  these  girls." 

She  grew  red.  "You  are  angry  with  me. 
I  don't  know  why.  I  thought  that  a 
betrothal  was  otherwise  done." 

It  is  true  that  he  was  angry;  and  if  she 
did  not  know  why,  neither  could  he  tell 
her,  for  he  didn't  know  himself.  While 
they  were  standing  there,  handfasted  but 
yet  far  apart,  one  came  in  to  say  that  the 
bargain  was  made,  and  that  Stangerd  must 
come  in  for  the  plighting  before  witnesses. 
Cormac  said  that  he  would  bring  her  in, 
but  was  told  that  could  hardly  be.  He 
tossed  up  his  head  and  tapped  with  his 
foot;     but    Stangerd    paid    no    attention    to 


THE   PLIGHTING  105 

him.  She  signalled  to  her  maids  that  they 
should  follow  her,  and  went  into  the  hall, 
leaving  Cormac  to  follow  as  best  he  might. 
He  was  well  called  Black  Cormac  for  that 
day,  at  any  rate.  But  the  thing  was  done, 
and  there  was  a  feast.  He  had  no  songs 
for  them,  though. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING 

PHE  wedding  was  to  be  in  early  spring; 
as  soon  as  the  weather  was  open, 
because  Cormac  would  not  wait  any 
longer,  and  there  were  no  signs  of  Tooth- 
gnasher's  ship.  Stangerd  did  not  at  all 
understand  why  he  was  in  such  a  hurry, 
and  he  could  not  tell  her,  though  he  knew 
very  well  why  it  was. 

He  felt  that  if  he  was  not  married  very 
soon  he  would  not  be  married  at  all.  It 
was  not  that  he  did  not  love  Stangerd,  and 
love  her  very  much,  but  that  he  loved  her 
in  another  way — a  way  which  irritated  and 
confused     him     and     hampered     the     free 

passage  of  his   mind.     He   could   not   enjoy 

1 06 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING         107 

the  sight  of  her  beauty,  or  be  happy  in 
seeing  her  do  things  beautifully,  as  formerly 
he  had.  He  loved  her  now  in  a  greedy 
and  grudging  way,  which  seemed  to  sap 
the  roots  of  happiness.  He  did  not  like 
to  see  her  look  at  another  man  or  even  give 
her  mind  to  anything  which  was  not  to 
do  with  him.  He  said  to  himself,  "I 
think  of  nothing  but  her — and  why  should 
she  be  otherwise  ?  Must  all  the  giving  be 
on  my  side?"  It  was  not  so  at  all,  if  he 
had  thought,  or  been  able  to  think,  of  it. 
She  loved  him  with  the  whole  of  her  being; 
and  what  more  could  she  have  done  ?  But 
there  it  was.  His  happiness  was  destroyed 
by  this  love;  his  song  forsook  him.  His 
mind  was  preoccupied:  he  had  no  hold 
on  it.  He  could  not  think,  or  see  good 
things,  or  take  pleasure  in  anything.  Stan- 
gerd  filled  him  up.  There  were  times  when 
he  cursed  the  day  on  which  he  saw  her; 
times  when  he  hated  her. 

And  while  he  must  by  all  means  see  her, 


108  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

know  what  she  was  doing,  and  prevent 
her  being  with  other  people,  he  was  not 
happy  with  her.  He  was  silent  and  morose. 
He  made  her  unhappy,  and  knew  that  he 
did.  There  seemed  always  a  grievance 
unatoned  for,  and  another  forming  upon 
the  scar  of  the  old.  All  this  was  so  unlike 
himself  that  he  could  not  help  contrasting 
it  with  what  he  had  been  before  disaster 
fell  upon  him.  In  thinking  it  over,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  inconceiv- 
ably happy  before  this  fell  upon  him.  He 
seemed  to  be  looking  back  from  a  dark  place 
upon  himself  free  and  glorious  in  the  light 
of  the  sun.  That  he  should  count  the  day 
of  his  plighting  his  day  of  disaster  shows 
you  to  what  a  state  he  had  come.  And  yet 
he  desired  her  keenly,  and  thought  day 
and  night  of  what  he  should  do  to  her  when 
she  was  his. 

As  for  Stangerd,  she  would  have  been 
happy  enough  if  he  could  have  left  her  alone. 
It    was    very    pleasant    to    her   to    feel    his 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING        109 

domination  when  it  was  plainly  exerted 
by  love.  His  kisses  were  fierce  and  furious, 
but  they  were  sweet  if  they  were  dangerous. 
She  had  a  cool  head  and  a  steady  heart; 
she  did  not  love  in  that  sort  of  way;  but 
she  admired  those  who  did,  and  allowed 
him  what  he  chose  without  fear  or  sense  of 
danger.  But  when  love  became  something 
like  hate,  when  kisses  turned  to  biting, 
she  was  made  unhappy,  and  came  to  resent 
it  as  an  indignity. 

"What  have  I  done  ?  Why  do  you  treat 
me  like  this  ?"  she  would  ask  him,  and 
he  would  gloom  and  scowl. 

"You  have  shown  me  what  you  really 
are.  You  have  no  heart,  but  in  your 
beautiful  bosom  you  have  a  dark  nest  of 
pride.  Pride  like  a  bed  of  snakes  is  there 
— a  dozen  angry  heads  with  darting  tongues. 
Flat  heads  with  narrow  eyes  looking  all 
ways  to  strike. " 

Tears  clouded  her  blue  eyes.  "You  are 
hateful   to   say   such   things.     I   let  you   do 


no  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

what  you  choose  with  mc;  you  come  and 
go  as  you  will,  and  I  am  always  here  for 
you.  You  are  free  of  the  house,  and  free 
of  me — and  yet  you  never  have  kind  looks 
for  it.  I  don't  know  what  has  come  over 
you." 

In  her  heart  of  hearts  she  believed  that 
he  had  been  cursed  by  the  spae-wife;  but 
she  dared  not  hint  it  for  her  life.  Some 
such  thing  had  been  whispered,  and  Cormac 
had  flown  into  a  great  passion  and  gone 
out  with  his  sword  in  his  hand  to  find  the 
man  who  had  said  it. 


So  the  time  wore  on,  and  the  ice  broke 
up  upon  the  firth,  and  the  days  grew 
longer,  and  through  the  fog  you  could  hear 
the  thunder  of  the  falling  snow.  Cormac 
said  that  the  wedding  must  be  soon;  and 
then  about  the  equinox  there  came  a  ship 
from  Ireland  into  the  firth,  and  reported 
the    Toothgnasher's    ship    as    on    the    way 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING        in 

home.  Thorkcl  said  that  they  must  wait 
for  him  by  all  means,  and  Cormac  was  left 
to  his  mother  to  deal  with. 

She  found  him  difficult.  He  jibbed  at 
the  Toothgnasher,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  he  had  been  anxious  all  along  to  get 
Stangerd  away  before  her  brother  could  be 
home. 

"But  I  had  sooner  be  done  with  them 
without  Toothgnasher,"  he  said  to  his 
mother.  "I  shall  have  to  deal  with  him 
later,  I  don't  doubt.  No,  decidedly  I  shall 
not  wait  for  Toothgnasher.  Let  him  ease 
his  hot  gums  on  other  men's  affairs — not 
mine." 

"But  he  is  Thorkel's  only  son;  he  is 
Stangerd's  only  brother,"  said  she.  "You 
are  unreasonable." 

"Ah!"  cried  Cormac,  "how  do  you  know 
I  am  unreasonable  ?  I  tell  you  I  won't 
have  him  there." 

"What  has  Stangerd  to  say  to  this?" 
She  put  this  to  him  because  she  was  at    her 


112  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

wits'  end.  Cormac  gloomed,  and  jutted  out 
his  chin. 

"I  have  not  spoken  to  her.  She  knows 
that  I  have  no  liking  for  Toothgnasher. 
She  will  say  what  I  wish  her  to  say." 

But  it  appeared  that  here  he  was  wrong. 
Stangerd  wanted  her  brother  to  be  at  the 
wedding.  She  begged  it  of  Cormac.  She 
went  so  far  as  to  kiss  him  of  her  own  accord 
— a  thing  which  she  very  rarely  did.  He 
remarked  upon  it,  with  bitterness,  and 
stored  the  memory  in  his  troubled  heart. 
There  it  remained  as  a  grievance,  instead 
of  a  happy  memory:  the  grievance  was 
that  she  had  not  done  it  before.  But  he 
would  not  promise.  Then  Stangerd  grew 
hot  and  showed  her  cheek-bones. 

"You  treat  me  very  ill.  It  is  the  bride's 
right  to  fix  her  wedding-day.  You  force 
me  to  tell  you  so." 

Cormac  turned  rather  grey  in  the  face. 
"If  force  drives  you  against  my  wish  it 
is    a    poor   look-out    from    where   we    stand 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING        113 

now.  And  I  will  tell  you  this,  Stangerd. 
It  will  take  more  force  than  you  and 
your  brother  and  Thorkel  have  at  call  to 
drive  me  against  my  will."  With  that  he 
left  her. 

He  did  not  see  her  again  until  the  day 
which  had  formerly  been  fixed  for  the 
wedding.  On  that  day  he  had  expected 
his  mother  and  Thorgils  to  ride  with  him 
to  Tongue  as  if  for  the  wedding;  but  they 
would  not  go  with  him.  Dalla  said  that 
he  was  acting  outrageously,  and  he  knew 
that  he  was.  But  the  black  fit  was  upon 
him.  "If  you  will  not  come  to  my  wedding," 
he  said,  "I  shall  go  alone." 

Go  he  did,  and  found  Stangerd  with  her 
sleeves  rolled  up,  at  the  well,  washing  linen. 
The  morning  was  a  fair  one,  with  a  fresh 
wind  blowing  from  the  land,  and  spray 
from  the  firth.  Cormac  had  fine  clothes 
on  him,  with  a  new  scarlet  cloak  fastened 
at  the  shoulder  with  a  golden  brooch. 

Two  of  the  girls  stood  up  to  look  at  him; 


ii4  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

but  Stangerd  bent  down  to  the  bulging  linen, 
and  pommelled  it  with  a  will. 

"Is  that  your  bridal  gown  you  are  wetting 
there  ?"  said  Cormac. 

"The  bride's  dress  is  still  on  the  loom," 
said  one  of  the  maids. 

"What  day  is  this?"  he  cried  out. 

"Washing  day,"  said  she,  "and  a  good 
drying  day." 

"Ah,"  said  Cormac,  "and  you  will  be 
drying  more  than  linen  this  day.  You  will 
be  drying  up  the  sap  of  a  man." 

Stangerd  had  nothing  to  say.  In  a  fury 
he  slipped  off  his  horse  and  went  to  her. 
He  stood  over  her  with  threatening  eyes. 

"Is  this  how  you  greet  your  husband? 
Is  this  how  our  wedding  is  to  be?' 

She  did  not  flinch,  but  gave  him  a  steady 
look  upwards  from  where  she  knelt  below 
him. 

"It  will  not  be  so  when  the  day  comes 
— not  so  on  my  part,"  she  said. 

"However  it  be,  it  will  be  you  who  have 


THE   DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING         115 

made  it  as  it  will  be,"  he  told  her.  She 
said  no  more. 

One  of  the  girls  said,  "Toothgnasher  is 
off  the  islands.     He  will  be  here  soon.'* 

"The  trolls  take  Toothgnasher,"  said 
Cormac,  and  mounted,  and  rode  home. 

In  the  mood  he  was  in  now,  nothing 
could  be  done  with  him  at  home. 
Thorgils,  his  brother,  was  a  peacefully- 
disposed  man  who  never  said  very  much. 
His  mother  had  learned  the  limits  of  her 
tether  and  did  not  pull  against  a  rope  and 
an  iron  peg.  Both  of  them  thought  him 
in  the  wrong;  but  Thorgils  was  sure  that 
the  spae-wife  had  done  all  the  mischief. 
What  Dalla  may  have  thought  about  that, 
she  kept  to  herself,  for  she  knew  how  furious 
Cormac  would  have  been.  He  took  to  the 
fells  in  these  days  and  was  seldom  seen. 
Nobody  knew  what  he  did  there.  Stangerd 
never   saw   him,   and   felt   herself  aggrieved. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  summer,  Tooth- 
gnasher brought  his  ship  into  the  firth  and 


u6  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

laid  her  up.  He  was  a  tall,  high-coloured 
man,  with  a  fine  flaxen  beard  on  his  lip. 
He  had  dark  blue  eyes  like  Stangerd's: 
they  were  a  fine  couple.  Thorkel  made  much 
of  him,  and  very  soon  gave  him  his 
bearings. 

He  stared  when  he  heard  the  state  of 
the  case.  "Why,  what  possesses  the  man? 
Is  it  witchcraft  ?" 

"Some  fiend  has  him.  There  is  no  doing 
anything  with  him,"  Thorkel  said. 

"There  is  one  thing  to  do  with  him," 
said  Toothgnasher.  "You  had  better  let 
me  go  and  talk  with  him." 

Thorkel  shook  his  head.  "Stangerd 
would  not  like  that." 

"Well,"  said  Toothgnasher,  "and  do  you 
think  she  likes  the  thing  as  it  stands?" 

But  Thorkel's  advice  prevailed,  that 
Cormac  should  be  summoned  to  the 
marriage.  This  was  done.  Word  was 
brought  by  Narve,  who  saw  Thorgils. 

Thorgils   said   he  would  give  Cormac  the 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING        117 

message,  but  that  he  was  from  home  just 
now.  "And  I  think  he  is  up  in  the  fells," 
he  said. 

"And  what  will  he  be  doing  there  at  this 
season  ?"  Narve  asked. 

"Amusing  himself,"  said  Thorgils,  "with 
trapping  and  such-like." 

"He  will  find  few  things  there  so  hard 
to  trap  as  we  find  at  home,"  Narve  said. 

At  Tongue  the  opinion  was  that  he  would 
come;  but  that  was  not  Stangerd's  opinion. 
She  kept  her  thoughts  very  private,  and 
would  not  talk  to  her  maids.  Her  heart 
was  sore  at  the  slight  put  upon  her  for  no 
fault  of  her  own,  and  as  well  as  that  she 
had  the  memory  of  Cormac  in  his  days  of 
eager  wooing.  They  had  been  sweet,  and 
the  sweeter  they  the  bitterer  her  present 
dule.  But  she  did  not  cry,  for  that  was 
not  her  way  when  she  was  sad,  but  only 
when  she  was  offended.  At  this  time  she 
was  more  sad  than  offended.  And  she 
hoped   up  to  the  very  last  that  the  cloud 


u8  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

would  lift  from  her  sky  before  it  was  too 
late.  She  was  not  yet  offended;  but  she 
was  a  proud  girl,  and  knew  that  she  could 
never  forgive  him  if  he  failed  her. 

And  so  the  time  wore  on  to  the  day  of 
the  wedding,  when  she  was  dressed  in  fine 
clothes,  and  wore  a  gold  crown  on  her  head. 
She  sat  still  and  flushed  with  clenched 
hands,  on  the  dais  with  her  maids;  her 
kinsfolk  and  acquaintances  sat  at  the 
tables;    but  none  came  from  Melstead. 

They  sat  there,  saying  at  first  little,  and 
then  nothing  for  an  hour  or  more.  Presently 
Narve,  who  was  always  hopping  to  the 
door  and  back,  cried  out,  "I  see  a  man 
riding  this  way." 

No  one  spoke.  Stangerd's  heart  was  a 
stone. 

He  said  again,  "I  know  him.  It  is 
Thorgils,  Cormac's  brother.  And  he  comes 
alone." 

Thorgils  came  into  the  hall  and  saluted 
the  company.     Thorkel  bade  him  welcome. 


THE   DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING         119 

Then  he  said,  "We  looked  to  see  more 
of  you  from  Melstead,  but  you  come  alone. 
What  are  we  to  make  of  it?" 

Thorgils  was  very  much  troubled.  "I 
can  only  tell  you  what  I  know  myself.  The 
summons  was  given  to  Cormac  on  the  day 
it  was  delivered  to  me.  I  bade  him  to  the 
marriage,  and  he  said  he  would  remember 
it  and  do  what  was  right.  After  that  he 
went  away,  and  I  have  not  seen  him  since. 
What's  more,  I  can't  tell  where  he  is.  He 
may  be  on  the  sea  for  all  I  know." 

There  was  silence  for  some  time.  Then 
Stangerd  went  away,  with  her  maids 
following  her.  She  could  not  now  hide 
her  tears,  and  they  came  freely,  and 
burning  hot. 

When  she  was  gone,  Thorkel  said,  "This 
is  a  great  affront  put  upon  me  by  your 
brother,  and  I  am  not  to  pass  over  it.  He 
sought  the  girl,  and  I  agreed  to  it,  as  you 
know,  though  not  willingly,  for  I  never 
fancied  the  match.    Then  he  began  to  behave 


120  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

strangely,  and  it  has  gone  on  from  bad  to 
worse.  You  tell  me  you  have  nothing  more 
to  say — and  now  I  tell  you  that  I  also 
have  come  to  an  end  of  speaking." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Toothgnasher.  "It 
is  not  a  case  for  talk;  but  Cormac  and  I 
shall  have  other  things  to  do  than  talk  to 
each  other." 

Thorgils  said,  "That  will  be  as  it  must 
be.  It  is  likely  that  there  will  be  more  to 
come.  I  can  only  say  that  we  are  con- 
cerned for  Cormac.  He  is  not  himself  in 
this.  His  life  has  been  crossed.  There  is 
a  spell  upon  him.  But  you  have  nothing 
to  do  with  that,  and  I  can't  ask  you  even 
to  believe  it.  But  do  not  think  that  Cormac 
is  pleasing  himself  in  this  affair.  He  is 
of  all  men  the  most  unhappy.  But  Fate 
rules  us  all." 

They  stared  or  gloomed  at  him  according 
as  their  natures  moved  them.  It  was  plain 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said  to  Thorgils, 
who  presently  saluted  the  company  and  took 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING         121 

himself   off.      Toothgnasher    went    into    the 
Bower  to  see  Stangerd. 

She  had  stopped  her  tears,  but  her  eyes 
were  very  red;  and  she  was  tired,  without 
heart  to  speak  much  about  it.  When, 
however,  Toothgnasher  began  to  talk  about 
the  affront,  she  broke  out  afresh,  "Oh, 
he  is  cruel,  he  is  cruel  to  use  me  so!" 

"He  is  tired  of  you,  sweetheart,"  her 
brother  said;    but  she  would  not  have  it  so. 

"No,  no,  no!  That  is  not  so.  He  loves 
me — he  loves  me  too  much.  But  he  is 
proud,  and  he  makes  me  feel  his  pride.  I 
know  very  well  how  it  is.  He  is  the  most 
wretched  of  men  just  now.  He  wants  me 
sorely,  but  will  not  come.  He  knows  that 
I  could  soothe  him — and  so  I  could — but  he 
will  not  allow  it." 

"By  Heaven  and  Earth,"  said  Tooth- 
gnasher, "I  have  the  means  to  humble  that 
pride  of  his." 

She    put    hands    upon    him.      "Brother,' 
she  said,  "you  shall  not  touch  him — or  if  you 


122  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

do  you  will  have  seen  the  last  of  me.  It 
is  the  way  of  men  to  think  that  they  can 
assuage  every  grief  by  slashing  at  each 
other.  They  do  nothing  but  comfort  to 
themselves." 

"It  is  the  business  of  kinsfolk  to  avenge 
each  other,  however  you  take  it,"  said 
Toothgnasher. 

"And  what  comfort  is  it  to  me  if  you 
slay  the  man  I  love  or  if  he  slay  you  ?" 
she  asked  him,  and  then  she  asked  herself, 
"Is  there  any  fool  in  the  world  the  equal 

of  a  man  ?" 

***** 

As  for  Cormac,  he  did  not  appear  at 
Melstead  for  two  days  more.  Then  he  came 
in  haggard  and  unwashen,  and  would  do 
nothing  but  sit  and  gaze  about  him,  taking 
quick  and  short  breath.  Nobody  knew 
where  he  had  been.  He  was  splashed  all 
up  his  legs  with  brown — so  he  had  been 
in  the  peat  hags,  they  judged.  He  said 
nothing  about  Stangerd,  but  sat  about  the 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING        123 

house  for  two  or  three  days  without  speaking 
at  all.  After  that  he  seemed  to  have 
gathered  strength,  for  he  collected  himself 
and  did  some  work  in  the  meadows.  He 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  Stangerd  altogether, 
— but  he  had  not,  as  it  turned  out. 

Now  as  to  this  curious  business  there  is 
plenty  to  say,  and  every  man  will  put  his 
own  interpretation  upon  it,  and  every 
woman  also.  There  must  be  few  women 
who  will  not  have  experience  within  them 
to  bring  to  the  reading.  A  poet  (not 
Cormac)  has  reasoned  it  out,  but  we  need 
not  bring  in  any  more  poets  to  the  argu- 
ment— at  present.  On  the  showing  of  this 
instructed  man  the  day  of  misfortune  was 
the  day  when  Cormac  kissed  Stangerd  first. 
There  may  be  much  truth  in  this. 


CHAPTER   XI 

BERSE  COMES  IN 

YX7"HETHER  or  no  Cormac  had  got  the 
better  of  his  love-affair — and  nobody 
knew  but  himself — it  had  made  a  great 
to-do  at  Tongue.  But  the  people  there 
did  not  see  how  to  set  about  avenging 
the  slight  put  upon  them,  since  Stangerd 
would  not  hear  of  fighting,  or  have  Cormac 
challenged  for  atonement.  It  was  judged 
finally,  after  much  talk,  that  they  must 
get  her  married,  lest  the  countryside  should 
think  that  she  had  lost  her  only  chance — 
which  was  nonsense,  seeing  what  a  splendid 
girl  she  was,  and  how  much  counted. 

So  they  brought  up  the  name  of  this  man 

and  that   man,  but  could   not   decide   upon 

124 


BERSE  COMES   IN  125 

any  one  man,  until  Narve,  always  ready 
with  the  tongue,  lit  upon  Berse  of  Sowerby. 
"Now  there's  a  man,"  he  said,  "of  all 
men  in  the  world  the  most  proper.  A 
powerful  man,  a  very  pleasant,  affable, 
middle-aged  man,  a  man  of  wealth,  and  a 
man  of  his  hands.  Bring  him  into  your 
quarrel,  and  the  thing  is  done.  Your  young 
fire-eater  will  have  little  to  say  to  him,  you 
may  be  sure." 

That  was  true.  The  man  was  a  notable 
champion.  They  called  him  Battle-Berse, 
Holmgang  Berse,  and  Wager-of-Battle  Berse 
— which  all  mean  the  same  thing;  for  the 
Holmgang  is  to  go  to  the  holm  for  the  fight's 
sake;  and  in  the  wager-of-battle  you  back 
your  quarrel  with  another  man's  blood.  In 
that  way  Berse  had  backed  his  no  less  than 
thirty  times,  and  had  never  lost  it.  Besides 
that,  he  had  I  don't  know  how  many 
homicides  to  his  account.  It  has  been  said 
before  that  he  had  had  about  enough  of 
it,   and  was  for  peace  and   plenty  in  these 


126  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

days.  He  was  a  widower,  survivor  of  a 
fine  woman  called  Finna  the  Fair;  he  was 
rich,  and  he  was  getting  fat — not  unwieldy, 
you  understand,  but  comfortably  fat.  But 
still,  not  a  doubt  about  it,  he  would  give 
a  good  account  of  himself  upon  the  field 
when  he  was  called  there. 

He  was  the  man,  let  me  remind  the  reader, 
who  had  given  harbourage  to  Thorveig  the 
spae-wife  after  the  killing  of  her  sons. 
He  gave  her  the  ferry-house  at  Berse- 
stead,  where  you  cross  over  to  go  into 
Sowerby. 

Well,  they  talked  him  over  at  Tongue, 
with  other  men,  and  none  was  found  so 
suitable;  so  presently,  without  a  word  to 
Stangerd,  Toothgnasher,  Narve  and  one  or 
two  others  went  over  to  his  country  and 
found  him  at  home.  As  well  as  himself 
there  were  his  sister  Hilda  in  the  house,  a 
personable,  active  woman,  a  pretty  girl, 
very  fond  of  Berse,  called  Stanvor  Slimlegs, 
and   his  young  son  Osmund — a  boy  of  ten 


BERSE  COMES   IN  127 

years  old  or  so.  He  was  very  glad  to  see 
them,  and  made  them  a  good  entertainment. 
They  talked  in  the  evenings  of  this,  that, 
and  the  other.  To  get  Berse  upon  his 
fighting  days  was  to  get  him  at  his  best; 
and  it  appeared  that  he  was  still  a  roaring 
boy  for  all  his  grizzled  beard  and  dewlap. 
There  was  the  girl  Stanvor,  for  example, 
as  pretty  a  girl  as  ever  you  saw,  with  legs 
which  certainly  deserved  to  be  famous — 
as  they  were.  Now  that  girl  was  daughter 
to  a  man  called  Ord  who  lived,  not  at 
Tongue  on  Midfirth,  but  at  Tongue  in  Bitra. 
He  was  a  fisherman  with  many  men  in  his 
employ,  and  in  a  quarrel  which  arose  over 
the  merits  of  men  in  those  parts,  this  Ord 
maintained  that  Berse  of  Sowerby,  Battle- 
Berse,  was  the  bigger  man  as  against  one 
Thorarin  of  Gutdale.  The  story  came  to 
Thorarin's  ears — an  ill-conditioned,  strong 
man — who  one  fine  day  came  down  to 
Tongue  in  Bitra  when  no  men  were  about, 
and    picked    up    Stanvor    out    of   the    garth 


128  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

and  carried  her  off  with  him.  Ord  in  his 
trouble  went  to  Battle-Berse,  saying,  "This 
blow  was  struck  at  me  because  I  spoke  well 
of  you.  I  look  to  you  now,  Berse,  to  wipe 
out  my  shame."  Berse  said  that  he  wanted 
no  man's  good  word,  but  would  do  what 
he  could.  He  armed  himself  with  sword 
and  three  spears,  and  rode  down  the  valley 
and  over  the  ridge  and  down  again  into 
Gutdale.  He  got  there  late,  when  the  men 
were  come  in  from  the  fields  and  the  women 
setting  the  tables.  He  saw  Stanvor  at 
the  back  door  and  beckoned  to  her.  She 
ran  up  and  told  him  her  troubles.  Berse 
got  off  his  horse,  and  took  her  by  the  hand. 
"Hold  the  horse,"  he  said,  "and  these  spears, 
and  wait  for  me  here."  "Oh,  where  are  you 
for?"  she  said,  and  he  told  her.  It  was 
a  pity  to  come  so  far  for  such  a  little  thing 
as  she  was — and  "I'm  going  to  see  who's 
at  home."  She  said,  "The  men  are  all 
in  there  at  the  fires."  "I  know  that," 
says  Berse,  and  goes  up  and  bangs  at  the 


BERSE  COMES   IN  129 

door  with  his  fist.  A  man  came  out.  "Go 
and  tell  Thorarin  that  Berse  wants  to  see 
him,"  he  was  told.  Presently  out  comes 
Thorarin  with  a  bill  in  his  hand  and  makes 
a  slash  at  Berse  with  it.  Berse  had  his 
famous  sword  Whiting  ready  for  him,  and 
gave  him  a  cut  through  the  neck  into  the 
shoulder,  which  was  his  death-blow.  Then 
he  went  back  to  his  horse,  mounted,  pulled 
up  Stanvor,  put  her  before  him,  and  galloped 
down  the  road  to  a  wood.  Deep  in  the  wood 
he  left  Stanvor  with  the  horse,  but  he  himself 
went  back  to  the  skirts  of  it  to  wait  for 
the  hue-and-cry.  Thorarin  had  three  sons, 
who  came  out  after  Berse,  expecting  to 
trap  him  further  on  as  he  entered  the  pass 
into  the  hills.  It  proved  otherwise,  for  it 
was  Berse  who  trapped  the  trappers.  He 
had  three  spears  to  Thorarin's  three  sons, 
and  he  threw  each  of  them,  and  with  each 
brought  his  man  down.  The  rest  of  the 
outcry  ran  back  to  the  house.  Berse  lay 
the  three  bodies  out   side  by  side,   and  his 


i3o  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

cloak  across  them  to  show  who  had  done 
the  business,  and  then  went  back  to  the 
horse  and  the  girl.  He  took  Stanvor  home 
with  him  to  his  walled  house  in  the  hills; 
and  she  would  not  leave  him,  and  never 
did.  That  was  the  kind  of  man  Battle- 
Berse  was;  and  always  very  good-tempered 
over  it,  a  most  agreeable  man,  as  Narve 
had  said. 

He  told  this  tale  now  to  his  guests,  sit- 
ting in  his  elbow-chair  with  his  arm  round 
Stanvor  herself,  she  leaning  against  the  elbow 
with  her  head  on  one  side,  and  eyes  cast 
down.  When  it  came  to  the  point  where 
Berse  said  that  she  would  not  leave  him 
and  never  did,  she  looked  at  him  gravely, 
with  a  little  half-smile,  very  pretty  to  see. 
Berse  gave  her  a  squeeze  and  said:  "Hey, 
sweetheart,  is  that  true?" 

Stanvor  nodded  her  head,  still  smiling, 
and  said,  "I  shan't  leave  you  till  you 
tell  me  to  go." 

You  couldn't  help  liking  the  man. 


BERSE  COMES   IN  131 

Many  such  stories  Berse  had  to  tell,  but 
it  was  not  for  such  things  they  had  come 
out.  The  talk  flew  about  from  men's 
courage  to  women's  looks;  and  presently 
Narve  spoke  of  Stangerd  as  the  fairest  of 
women,  and  Berse  did  not  deny  it. 

"There's  a  pretty  girl  here,"  he  said, 
"and  a  dainty  girl,  very  fond  of  me;  but 
I  know  that  Stangerd's  beauty  is  like  a  corn- 
field in  bearing  to  a  poor  man's  patch  of 
rye-grass  compared  to  little  Stanvor's." 

"You  heard,  most  likely,"  Narve  said, 
"of  the  way  she  was  treated  by  Cormac 
Ogmundsson  of  Melstead  ?    A  great  shame." 

Berse  twinkled  and  set  his  thumbs  twirling 
like  the  sails  of  a  mill.  "I  heard  something 
of  it,"  he  said;  "and  a  fine  young  man, 
too,  by  all  accounts." 

"Too  fine,"  says  Narve;  and  then 
Toothgnasher  said,  "Not  fine  enough." 

Berse  nodded  very  comfortably.  "These 
young  men  go  about  on  the  tips  of  their 
toes,  asking  you  to  stand  out  of  their  way 


1 32  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

lest  by  chance  they  should  walk  into  you. 
Not  but  what  the  match  was  a  good  one. 
I've  been  told  something  of  Cormac's 
handiness  with  weapons." 

Narve  snapped  his  fingers.  "What  are 
his  hands  or  his  weapons  to  you,  Berse  ?" 

Berse  smiled.  "Well,  to  me,  maybe,  they 
are  less  than  to  yourself,  my  friend." 

"And  the  match  is  clean  off,  mind  you," 
Narve  went  on.  "They  say,  indeed,  that 
he's  out  of  the  country,  and  like  enough 
gone  Viking  like  his  father  before  him." 

Berse  said  no  more  at  the  time,  but  he 
turned  it  over.  He  knew  Thorkel  was  rich, 
he  knew  Stangerd  was  very  handsome.  He 
liked  good-looking  girls,  and  he  liked  riches. 
When  Toothgnasher  was  getting  ready  to 
go  home,  Berse  said  he  thought  he  would 
go  down  with  him.     And  so  he  did. 

Before  he  started  Stanvor  came  to  him. 
"Where  are  you  going,  master?"  she  asked 
him. 

He  twinkled  all  over  his  face,  and  looking 


BERSE  COMES   IN  133 

quizzically  at  her,  pinched  her  cheek.  "I 
am  going  down  to  the  frith,"  he  said,  "to 
see  a  fine  girl,  and  like  enough  that  is  what 
I  shall  do  with  her  when  I  get  on  terms." 

She  stood  flushed  and  serious  before  him. 
"It  is  like  enough,  indeed,"  she  said,  "and 
you  may  do  what  you  will  with  her  for  me. 
But  I  know  that  she  will  not  love  you  as 
I  do." 

Berse  put  his  heavy  hand  on  her  shoulder. 
"I  think  that's  true.  But  what  if  I  bring 
her  back  to  Sowerby  ?  What  will  you  say 
then,  pretty  one  ?  By  all  accounts  she's 
big  enough  to  eat  you  up  and  want  more." 

She  bore  his  glance.  "There  will  still 
be  room  here  for  me,"  she  said.  "I  shall 
do  no  harm  to  anybody." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Berse.  "But  you'll 
bring  happiness  wherever  you  are."  With 
that  he  kissed  her. 

She  saw  him  away,  and  stood  in  the  rain 
looking  after  him  until  he  was  swallowed 
up  in  it.    Then  she  went  back  into  the  house 


134  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

and  was  busy.  She  was  a  slightly-made, 
graceful  girl,  with  a  pale,  round  face,  and 
large,  blue-grey  eyes.  She  had  brown  hair 
which  rippled  like  running  water  and  curled 
at  the  ends.  She  looked  delicate,  but  was 
extremely  strong.  She  never  had  much  to 
say  to  anyone  but  Berse;  but  with  him  she 
would  talk  freely. 


CHAPTER  XII 

STANGERD'S  WEDDING 

T3ERSE,  with  all  his  experience  to  back 
him,  admired  Stangerd  very  much. 
She  was  a  big  girl,  with  a  strong  throat 
and  deep  chest;  she  had  not  much  to  say, 
but  was  not  at  all  shy.  These  qualities 
pleased  him;  but  he  thought  her  golden 
hair  and  hot  colouring  splendid,  and  would 
certainly  marry  her  if  he  could  come  to 
terms  with  her  father.  When  she  came 
to  serve  him  with  mead  in  the  hall,  he  took 
her  hand  and  looked  up  at  her. 

"I  wonder  that  a  girl  like  you  should 
remain  at  home,  Stangerd,"  he  said. 

She  blushed.  "That  may  not  be  my 
fault,  sir." 

135 


136  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"No,  no,"  said  Berse,  "but  it  will  be  a 
strange  fault  in  the  fine  young  men  I  see 
hereabouts  if  they  leave  you  alone.  I  shall 
look  to  see  you  in  the  golden  wreath  before 
many  days." 

"That  is  as  my  father  pleases,  sir," 
said  she. 

That  was  about  all  he  said  to  her,  but 
he  kept  his  eyes  upon  her  most  of  the 
evening,  and  when  she  had  gone  to  bed 
he  talked  to  Thorkel  about  her,  and  asked 
what  he  would  give  with  her. 

Thorkel,  who  had  small  eyes,  shifted 
them  about  Berse  without  meeting  his,  and 
said  that  he  didn't  rightly  know,  but  he 
supposed  that  a  girl  like  his  was  worth  a 
goodish  deal  in  herself.  He  had  been 
thinking  it  over,  and  had  no  doubt 
Berse  would  have  done  the  same.  He 
would  like  to  know  what  Berse  thought 
about  it. 

Berse  said  that  there  had  been  some  talk 
about    her    lately    in     respect     of  Cormac 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  137 

Ogmundsson.  "And  no  man  cares  for  that," 
he  said. 

Thorkel  said  there  was  nothing  in  it, 
and  Berse  said,  "Perhaps  not."  But  he  heard 
that  Cormac  was  a  bold  man  with  his  hands. 
Then  he  said:  "I  will  tell  you  this,  Thorkel, 
that  I  will  take  your  quarrel  upon  me,  and 
quit  you  of  any  mischiefs  with  Cormac 
and  his  friends.  But  you  must  deal  fairly 
in  the  matter  of  dowry,"  he  said. 

So  they  haggled  over  it  till  far  into  the 
night,  and  came  to  terms,  one  of  which 
was  that  the  wedding  should  be  done 
quickly,  and  another  that  Stangerd  was 
not  to  be  told  anything  about  it  until  just 
before.  Berse  boggled  at  that.  "You  cut 
me  out  of  my  respectable  pleasures,"  he 
said.  "It  is  very  pleasant  to  court  a  girl. 
It  is  very  pleasant  to  see  her  deal  with  a 
matter  so  momentous  to  her.  Can  anything 
in  her  life  touch  her  so  nearly?" 

But  Thorkel  knew  better  than  to  listen 
to  him.    "You  may  be  sure  that  my  counsel 


138  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

is  wise,"  he  said.  "Stangerd  is  a  good 
girl  if  ever  there  was  one,  but  her  heart 
was  very  much  set  upon  Cormac,  who  lives 
just  over  the  hill.  Who  can  say  what  she 
might  not  contrive  ?  Do  you  wish  for 
bloodshedding  upon  your  marriage-day?" 

"Well,"  said  Berse,  "I  am  not  sure — 
but  have  it  as  you  will." 

Next  day  he  went  home,  but  not  before 
he  had  talked  with  Stangerd.  "We  shall 
meet  again,  Stangerd,"  he  said  to  her. 
"I  hope  that  you  and  I  may  be  good 
friends." 

"It  takes  two  to  make  a  friendship," 
said  Stangerd. 

Berse  said,  "You  are  right.  But  one 
may  begin,  and  the  other  catch  the 
complaint.  Now  I  am  a  man  very  prone 
to  friendships.     How  is  it  with  you?" 

She  thought  that  she  was  slow  to  make 
friends — and  slow  to  lose  them. 

Berse  said  that  he  was  pleased  to  hear 
that,  and  would  have  given  her  a  kiss;    but 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  139 

she  wouldn't  allow  that,  and  told  him  that 

she  didn't  like  kissing.     He  took  the  rebuff 

with    good    humour,    and    soon    afterwards 

rode  away. 

Whatever    Stangerd    may    have    thought 

about  Berse  and  his  behaviour,  nothing  was 

said   to  her,    and   she   did   nothing   towards 

seeing  Cormac.     But   it   is   certain   that   he 

was  seldom  out  of  her  head.     She  was    still 

deeply    offended,    and    would    have    shown 

him  that   she  was,  very  plainly,  if  he  had 

come   to   see   her.      But   at   the   bottom   of 

her  heart  she  had  a  warm  conviction  of  his 

love,    and    of    her  own.      Her    nature    was 

slow  to  move,  but  she  had  spoken  the  truth 

when  she  told  Berse  that  she  was  steadfast. 
♦  *  *  #  * 

Berse  made  his  preparations  quickly,  and 
was  ready  to  go  back  to  Tongue  in  eight 
days.  He  set  out  with  a  party  of  some 
fifteen  men — good  men  all,  and  well  armed. 
Thord  Arndisson  of  Mull  was  one  of  them, 
and  Wige  was  another.     Wige  was   a  man 


140  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

who  had  dealings  with  unseen  powers,  and 
was  said  to  be  mighty  in  the  dark.  Some 
people  deemed  that  he  was  a  werwolf.  Berse 
would  not  have  gone  without  him  on  any 
account;  and  before  he  went  he  told 
him  that  Cormac  might  give  trouble.  Wige 
thought  that  he  could  cope  with  Cormac. 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Berse,  "and  so  can  I; 
but  Thorkel,  look  you,  is  a  rare  coward, 
and  although  I  have  sworn  to  take  the 
venture  on  myself,  yet  he  can't  rest  in  his 
bed  for  thinking  of  what  they  may  do  at 
Melstead.  Now  I  want  to  keep  this  quiet 
until  it's  all  over,  and  she  is  mine.  Then 
Cormac  may  do  what  he  will,  for  then  he 
will  work  in  Sowerby,  and  not  there." 

Wige  said,  "Enough,  I'll  see  to  it." 

$  *  *  ■%  * 

They  got  to  Tongue  towards  evening, 
and  then  Stangerd  was  told  what  was  about 
to  befall  her.     Berse  told  her  himself. 

She  showed  flame-red,  and  gave  him  a  stare 
for  answer.  Her  eyes  were  like  the  flower  of  flax. 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  141 

"Was  this  in  your  mind  a  week  ago," 
she  said,  "when  you  spoke  to  me  of  your 
friendship  ?" 

"Yes,  it  was,"  said  Berse. 

"You  use  a  strange  way,"  said  she,  "to 
win  my  friendship.  I  will  tell  you  this, 
that  it  is  not  to  be  captured  by  a  trick,  as 
you  take  a  hare,  nor  by  a  spear.  Use  that 
with  a  salmon,  but  not  with  a  girl." 

Berse  looked  rather  foolish.  He  had  not 
thought  the  thing  out  properly.  "Well," 
he  said,  "you  shan't  repent  it.  I'll  use 
you  well.  You  will  be  mistress  of  a  good 
house — and  you  will  have  no  bad  looks 
from  me." 

Stangerd  turned  away  her  face,  not 
choosing  that  he  should  see  her  tears. 
She  was  taking  this  badly,  but  her  mind 
was  full  of  shifts  and  schemes  how  she  could 
let  Cormac  know  what  was  being  done  with 
her.  Berse  had  hold  of  her  hand  by  this 
time,  and  was  trying  to  coax  her. 

"Look    now,    Stangerd,"    he    said,    "it    is 


142  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

not  very  pleasant  for  you  here  these  days. 
The  neighbourhood  will  talk  about  a  girl 
that  has  been  jilted  on  her  wedding-day, 
and  your  father  don't  like  that,  nor  your 
brother  either.  It  is  putting  a  slight  upon 
the  house,  don't  you  see  ?  Now,  I'm  a  man 
well  known  in  my  own  country  for  a  ready 
hand,  and  there  won't  be  things  said  about 
me  which  you  or  I  won't  care  to  hear.  At 
least,  they  won't  be  said  twice.  Do  your 
best  to  make  a  friend  of  me,  and  remember 
that  a  girl  has  to  let  her  father  be  the  judge 
of  what's  to  be  done  with  her.  I  am  older 
than  you  are — that's  certain — but  see  what 
experience  I've  had.  Now  my  first  wife 
was  a  woman  called  Finna,  of  great  family 
and  riches;  and  she  was  a  beauty,  too. 
They  called  her  Finna  the  Fair.  I  don't 
say  that  she  was  your  match  in  that 
respect — but  she  was  very  well  indeed,  I 
can  assure  you.  Now  that  woman  got  to  be 
very  fond  of  me  before  she  died.  She  used 
to  say  there  was  no  one  like  me  for  wheedling. 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  143 

Now  you  give  me  a  fair  field,  and  you  shall 
see.  I  know  what  can  be  said  for  that 
Cormac  of  yours — a  fine,  bold  way  with  him, 
I  don't  doubt,  and  when  the  mood  was  on 
him  I  can  understand  that  no  girl  could 
resist  him.  But  what  about  his  black 
moods,  my  dear?  How  did  you  find  him 
then  ?  Scowling,  glooming;  not  a  word 
to  say  for  himself.  That  don't  make  for  a 
happy  homestead — no,  no !  Now  there's 
this  to  say  for  old  Battle-Berse,  that  in  peace 
or  war  no  man  has  ever  seen  him  out  of 
temper.  Still  less  any  woman.  Always 
ready  with  his  crooked  smile  and  lifted  eye- 
brow— full  of  his  quips  and  crankums — 
always  ready  to  kiss  and  cuddle;  with  a 
knee  would  seat  half  a  dozen  of  you  at 
once — and  all  yours,  Stangerd,  when  you 
want  it.  Try  me,  my  dear, — and  if  you 
want  Cormac  after  a  year  in  Sowerby,  why, 
you  shall  have  him,  for  me.  That's  a  queer 
way  of  wooing  a  wife,  but  it's  Berse's  way,  and 
not  a  bad  one.     Now,  what  do  you  say?" 


H4  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  was  an  insinuating  man.  His  arm 
was  round  her  waist  by  now,  and  before  she 
lifted  her  head  up  his  good-natured  face 
was  close  to  hers;  and  when  she  did  look 
at  him,  he  kissed  her. 

It  was  too  late  to  be  angry;  but  of  course 
she  didn't  like  it.  "If  it  must  be,"  she 
said,  "it  must  be;  but  spare  me  your 
kisses." 

"No,  no,"  he  said.  "They  are  part  of  the 
bargain." 

"They  are  not,  then,"  said  she,  "until 
the   bargain's   done" — and   she   went   away. 

The  hall  was  very  full  that  night,  and 
she  had  to  serve  them  all;  but  she  was 
desperate  to  find  a  way  of  reaching  Cormac. 
Presently  there  is  a  call  for  more  drink,  and 
she  sends  Narve  out  to  fill  the  pitchers,  and 
goes  out  to  meet  him  half-way. 

She  has  a  moment  with  him  alone.  She 
takes  him  by  both  shoulders  and  stares  at 
him.  He  puts  down  his  pitchers  and  gapes 
into  her  face. 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  145 

"Oh,  Narve,  Narve,  help  me  if  you  can," 
she  says. 

"That  I  will,"  he  says. 

She  looks  about  her  fearfully.  "Tell 
Cormac — let  him  know  to-night;  to-morrow 
will  be  too  late,"  she  says.  He  sees  that 
she  is  shaking  all  over,  and  staring  about 
as  if  she  didn't  know  what  she  was  doing. 

"I'll  go  to  him,"  says  Narve.  "I'll  go 
to  him  to-night — after  they  are  abed." 

She  is  swaying  about.  "Ah,"  she  says, 
"catch  me — I'm  going  to  fall  down!" 

She  falls  into  his  arms.  He  picks  her 
up  and  takes  her  out  of  doors,  and  into  the 
Bower  by  the  women's  door.  Then  he  goes 
back  and  picks  up  his  pitchers. 

In  the  hall  he  tells  a  maid  to  go  and  look 
after  her. 

***** 

It  was  late  before  they  were  all  got  to 
bed.  Some  of  them  were  very  drunk. 
Toothgnasher  had  to  be  carried.  Berse 
had   all  his  wits   about  him,   and   Wige  the 


146  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

wolf-man  had  more  than  ever  he  had  in 
the  day.  Narve  gave  them  an  hour  to  get 
sound  asleep  and  then  slipped  down  the 
hall  and  unfastened  the  door  without  noise. 

It  was  broad  moonlight,  and  a  river  of 
black  shade  ran  before  every  wall;  but  he 
was  well  over  them  all,  and  had  forded  the 
river  before  he  knew  he  was  being  followed. 
He  only  knew  it,  indeed,  by  something 
which  is  beside  sense;  for  when  he  looked 
back  he  couldn't  see  a  sign  of  a  man.  But 
he  ran  like  a  hare,  did  Narve,  and  was  up 
the  shoulder  of  the  hill  and  speeding  down 
the  path  through  a  little  pine  wood,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  he  felt  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  and  his  heart  jumped  burning 
into  his  throat. 

His  knees  failed,  and  down  he  sank  upon 
them.  By  his  side,  right  over  him  as  he 
found,  was  Wige,  all  silver-grey  in  the 
moonlight. 

"Oh!  Mercy!  What  do  you  want  with 
me  ?"  he  said. 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  147 

Wige  said  nothing,  but  stood  still  above 
him  with  hollow,  sightless  eye-sockets.  He 
was  a  very  tall,  thin  man. 

Narve's  teeth  were  clattering  together: 
it  was  a  cold  night.  Suddenly  Wige  stretched 
out  a  long  arm,  pointing  the  way  back  to 
Tongue.  Narve  got  upon  his  feet,  and, 
watching  the  arm,  began  to  edge  along 
the  way  he  was  intended  to  go.  He  walked 
sideways  that  he  might  keep  an  eye  upon 
the  apparition;  through  the  wood  and  up 
the  wood  he  went,  and  got  into  the  open. 
In  the  broad  moonlight  Wige  looked  shining 
like  metal.  Narve  took  to  his  heels  and 
ran  home  as  fast  as  he  had  come  out,  and 
Wige  fleeted  behind  him  with  long,  noise- 
less strides. 

In  the  morning  it  was  Narve's  business 
to  get  out  and  see  to  the  cattle  in  the  byre. 
He  was  to  drive  them  afield,  and  so  he  did. 
There  was  not  a  soul  in  sight,  but  a  light 
mist  covered  the  ground  so  that  you  could 
not  see  very  far.     He  thought  the  chance  a 


148  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

good  one  to  steal  over  the  hills  to  Melstead, 
and  took  it.  He  made  his  way  through 
brushwood  and  rocks,  and  was  half-way  up 
the  fell  when  out  of  the  mist  there  loomed 
before  him  a  shape,  tall  and  shadowy.  The 
terrors  of  the  night  came  back  to  him,  but 
something  else  also;  for  Wige  fell  upon  him 
with  a  ragged  staff,  and  beat  him  about  the 
shoulders  and  back.  Again  nothing  was 
said,  and  again  nothing  was  done  towards 
the  help  of  Stangerd.  Narve  saw  her  when 
he  got  home  again,  at  the  door  of  the  Bower, 
with  her  hair  all  over  her  shoulders.  It  had 
been  washed  for  the  wedding,  and  she  was 
drying  it  in  the  sun.  He  caught  her  eyes, 
and  shook  his  head  sadly.  She  turned  away 
her  face. 

jje  %  #  *  ♦ 

But  by  noon  she  had  recovered  her  com- 
posure, and,  looking  extremely  handsome, 
she  went  through  the  ceremonies  which 
married  her  to  Battle-Berse.  She  made  no 
difficulties   and  gave   no  trouble,   but  when 


STANGERD'S  WEDDING  149 

it  came  to  handfasting,  Thorkel  her  father 
saw  the  ring  on  her  finger  which  Cormac 
had  put  there,  and  told  her  to  take  it 
off.  That  she  refused.  "Never,"  she  said. 
"That  stays  where  it  is."  Toothgnasher 
grew  rather  rough.  "We'll  soon  see  about 
that!"  he  said;  but  Berse  stopped  him. 
"Leave  my  wife  alone,"  he  said.  "The 
ring  suits  her  very  well — and  she  shall  have 
plenty  more  for  the  other  fingers  when  she 
wants  them." 

She  was  wedded  by  the  afternoon,  and 
the  feast  began  and  lasted  all  night,  as  the 
custom  is.  On  the  morning  after  the  Sowerby 
people  set  off  home.  They  rode  by  the 
shore,  and  they  rode  quietly,  so  that  few 
should  know  what  was  going  on.  There 
was  to  be  a  boat  ready  for  them  on  Ramfirth, 
by  the  landing  of  Thorveig  the  spae-wife. 
They  would  reach  it  by  noon. 

Directly  they  were  well  on  their  road, 
Narve  started  off  to  run  to  Melstead. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CHASE 

TN  those  days  Cormac  went  about  the 
work  of  the  place;  but  he  was  a 
changed  man.  He  was  fallen  very  silent, 
and  grown  thin  and  grim-looking.  You 
never  heard  his  voice  singing  about  the 
acres  or  up  the  hill-side.  He  did  not 
care  to  swim  or  to  fish.  He  never  spoke 
about  Stangerd,  but  neither  Thorgils  nor  his 
mother  supposed  that  she  was  out  of  his 
mind.  And  she  never  was,  not  for  a  few 
moments  together;  but  yet  he  did  not  go 
near  her,  or  even  over  the  hills  which  would 
lead  him  into  the  dale  where  Tongue  was. 
From   the   top   of  the   ridge   you   could   see 

Tongue   lying   snug   in   sycamore-trees   with 

150 


CHASE  151 

its  fields  orderly  about  it;  but  Cormac 
would  never  go  there  now.  He  could  not 
have  told  you  why  that  was;  but  he  felt 
that  he  could  not. 

Sometimes  he  reasoned  with  himself 
about  it — especially  when  he  felt  a  great 
hunger  for  the  sight  of  her,  when  his  eyes 
ached  for  her.  Then  he  thought — "No,  I 
cannot  go,  for  I  might  see  her.  Then  it 
might  begin  all  over  again,  and  end  as 
vainly — and  I  cannot  go  on  like  that."  He 
told  himself  it  was  certainly  true  that 
Stangerd  was  too  beautiful  for  a  man  to 
marry;  for  what  could  any  man  do  or  enjoy 
which  would  be  worthy  of  so  high  a  possession  ? 
Lie  in  her  bosom,  mingle  with  her  in  love — 
but  what  were  such  things  to  compare  with 
the  thought  of  her,  which  was  like  the  wildest 
music,  to  the  knowledge  of  her,  which  made 
the  heart  beat  and  the  eyes  grow  dim  ? 
The  things  which  a  man  could  do  with  the 
woman  he  loved  were  good  enough  to  do 
with  common  women — the  pleasure  of  love, 


152  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

the  getting  of  children:  that  was  the  end 
of  common  desire,  and  filled  it.  But  with 
Stangerd,  who  made  you  faint  at  the  wonder 
of  her — with  Stangerd,  whose  touch  made 
you  tremble — such  things  could  not  be,  for 
they  would  tarnish  the  splendour  of  her, 
and  serve  you  little.  It  is  better  to  think 
of  kissing  Stangerd  than  to  kiss  her;  it  is 
better  to  dream  of  her  bosom  than  to  lie 
in  it;  for  kisses  cloy,  but  the  mind  of  a 
man  endures.  With  such  false  reasoning  he 
had  to  be  content,  for  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  go  to  her.  Not  once  did  it  enter 
his  head  that  he  was  doing  her  a  wrong. 
It  never  occurred  to  him  that  she  had  given 
him  her  heart  before  she  gave  him  her 
hand;  that  she  was  in  great  want  of  him 
as  well  as  wounded  in  her  self-esteem.  He 
could  not  think  of  such  things  because  he 
could  never  have  believed  that  she  loved  him. 
He  put  her  above  mankind  or  womankind. 
He  said,  She  is  a  Spirit  who  may  be  loved, 
but    cannot   love.      Had   he   loved    her   less, 


CHASE  153 

he   would   have   had   more  joy   of  her,   and 
she  of  him.     That's  the  truth  of  it. 
***** 

Now  that  morning  he  was  at  work  below 
the  house,  and  Thorgils  with  him,  and  some 
others.  They  were  building  a  wall  of 
turves.  Thorgils  was  piling  the  turves,  and 
Cormac  was  beating  them  in  with  a  mallet. 
They  both  looked  up  when  they  heard  steps 
on  the  fell,  and  watched  the  man  coming 
over  the  stepping-stones  of  the  river.  Then 
Cormac  turned  to  his  work,  and  worked  hard. 

Thorgils  said,  "I  think  it  is  Narve  from 
Tongue."  Cormac  said  nothing  to  that. 
All  except  himself  were  watching  the  man. 
Thorgils  said  again,  "He  has  weapons, 
and  carries  a  shield.  What  can  he  be 
about  ?" 

Toste  said,  "He  looks  back.  His  weapons 
are  for  somebody  behind  him.  What  is 
the  matter  with  him?" 

Thorgils  said,  "He  is  coming  here.  We 
shall  know  pretty  soon." 


154  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Cormac  took  no  notice,  but  went  on 
working  at  his  wall. 

Then  Narve  came  up,  stepping  warily, 
with  his  eyes  every  way  at  once,  as  if  every 
wall-end  or  tussock  of  rushes  might  hold 
an  ambush. 

"How  now,  Narve?"  Toste  called  out 
to  him.  "What  do  you  fear,  man?  And 
whom  are  you  after,  with  your  war-gear  ? " 

Narve  puffed  out  his  cheeks,  staring  about 
him.  "Pheugh!"  he  said.  "There's  need 
of  war-gear  in  these  days — and  in  the  nights 
it's  worse  still.  When  silver-grey  men  rise 
up  suddenly  in  thickets,  and  chase  you 
on  silent  feet " 

"What  news,  Narve?"  said  Thorgils, 
who  wanted  to  know  it.  "What  news  do 
you  bring  from  Tongue?" 

"I'm  late  with  my  news,"  said  Narve; 
"but  I  came  as  soon  as  I  could.  We  were 
busy  last  night." 

Were    you    so?"    Thorgils    asked    him. 
Had  you  guests  with  you  ?" 


ft 


CHASE  155 

"Guests,"  said  Narve.  "Ah,  we  had 
guests.     One  was  a  werwolf." 

Cormac  at  this  point  straightened  himself. 
"Who  were  your  guests?"  he  asked. 

Narve  said:  "There  was  Battle-Berse 
from  Sowerby,  and  seventeen  with  him — 
of  whom  one  was  just  what  I  told  your 
brother." 

But  Cormac  held  him  with  his  eye,  and 
would  not  leave  him.  "And  what  was 
Battle-Berse  doing  at  Tongue?" 

"He  was  sitting  at  his  wedding,"  said 
Narve. 

Everybody  was  now  very  still. 

"And  who  was  the  bride?"  Cormac 
asked  that  in  a  quiet  way. 

"The  bride  was  Stangerd,  Thorkel's 
daughter,"  Narve  said. 

Silence  was  upon  all,  and  Cormac  looked 
slowly  about  him,  from  face  to  face.  He 
was  grey  and  pinched,  but  as  he  looked 
about,  and  saw  in  every  man's  face  what 
could    not    be    hid,    rage    gathered    in    him. 


156  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  rolled  his  eyes  about,  and  suddenly 
whirled  his  mallet  round  his  head  and  struck 
with  all  his  might  at  Narve.  Narve  gave 
a  loud  cry,  and  put  up  his  shield.  That 
may  have  saved  his  life,  but  he  fell  back 
with  a  clatter,  and  lay  still,  just  as  if  he 
was  dead. 

Thorgils  said:  "That  was  a  shame, 
brother.  The  marriage  was  not  of  his 
making." 

"Bah!"  said  Cormac.  "He  croaks  like 
a  raven.     Let  him  lie!" 

But  Thorgils  fetched  water  from  a  spring 
and  brought  the  man  round.  Narve  sat  up 
and  held  his  head. 

"That  was  too  bad,"  he  said.  "I  did 
my  best  to  come  here  yesterday — and  this 
is  how  you  serve  me." 

Thorgils  asked  him  then,  "Was  this 
marriage  done  to  Stangerd  against  her 
will?" 

Narve  said,  "It  was  then.  She  was  in 
a  sad  way  about  it,  fluttering  and  holding 


CHASE  157 

her  heart.  She  got  me  aside  and  begged 
me  to  run  to  fetch  Cormac;  and  so  I  set 
out  to  do,  in  the  middle  of  the  night;  but 
Wige  the  wolf-man  rose  up  silvery  in  the 
wood  and  scared  me  back.  And  yet  again 
before  sunrise  I  started  to  come  over  the 
hill — and  there  in  the  mist  was  Wige,  a 
terrible  man." 

Thorgils  looked  at  Cormac,  who  was 
leaning  on  his  wall  but  listening. 

Narve  went  on  complaining:  "It  is  very 
well  for  Cormac  to  play  the  lord  of  lands, 
and  choose  his  time  to  have  women  come 
to  him.  A  fine  girl  like  that !  And  so  to 
treat  a  man  that  runs,  at  peril  of  his  life, 
to  tell  him  bad  news !  He  will  find  old 
Berse  of  another  mettle,  I'm  thinking,  and 
then  maybe  he'll  look  over  his  shoulder 
for  help  and  backing,  and  wish  he  had 
served  me  differently." 

Thorgils  wanted  to  know  about  the 
marriage-bargain,  and  Narve  told  him  what 
he  knew.     The  risk  was  all  to  be   Berse's. 


158  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  had  promised  to  keep  harmless  Stangerd's 
kindred. 

*  *  *  *  * 

When  Narve  had  taken  himself  off, 
Cormac  threw  down  his  mallet,  and  turned 
to  go  down  to  the  house.  Thorgils  watched 
him,  let  him  go,  and  presently  followed 
him,  running,  caught  him  up  and  put  his 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Whither  now?"  he  said. 

Cormac  showed  him  the  profile  of  a  stern 
face.     "I  am  going  after  her,"  he  said. 

Thorgils  was  very  sorry  for  him.  "Ah, 
but  that  will  do  you  no  good,"  he  said. 
"It's  too  late." 

"No,  no,"  said  Cormac,  "it's  not  too  late 
— for  one  thing  or  another." 

Thorgils  knew  what  he  meant.  "Well," 
he  said,  "I  am  sure  Berse  will  be  home 
before  you  can  fetch  at  him — but  I  shall 
go  with  you." 

"I  shall  wait  for  nobody,"  Cormac  said, 
and  went  into  the  house.     Thorgils  turned 


CHASE  159 

back  to  summon  all  hands,  and  before  he 
had  got  them  together,  he  saw  Cormac 
spur  out  of  the  yard  on  his  black  horse. 
He  threw  up  his  head  and  flacked  his  hands 
against  his  thighs  in  despair;  but  he 
followed  him  with  something  like  a  dozen 
men,  and  by  hard  riding  managed  to  keep 
him  in  sight. 

$  $  #  $  $ 

Cormac  came  down  to  the  ferry  where 
Thorveig's  house  was.  There  was  a  fine 
wind  blowing,  but  all  the  boats  were  beached. 
Not  one  was  in  the  water,  and  nobody  about 
the  place.  Well  out  in  the  firth  he  saw  a 
crowded  boat — men  and  horses  packed 
together.  The  gleam  of  white  told  him  all. 
Stangerd  was  there  in  a  white  dress — she 
seldom  wore  anything  else.  They  were  too 
far  off  for  him  to  make  her  out;  but  he 
saw  that  she  sat  in  the  fore-part  of  the  boat, 
and  thought  that  she  must  see  him.  He 
held  up  his  hand  that  held  the  axe.  His 
heart  beat  high.     He  fancied  that  she  lifted 


160  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

hers.  He  was  no  longer  under  the  curse. 
All  his  thoughts  of  her  were  purely  good. 
He  should  see  her  soon.  When  he  turned 
about  he  saw  Thorveig  standing  in  the  door 
of  her  house,  the  tall,  thin-haired  woman 
with  her  faded,  all-seeing,  unseeing  eyes. 

"What  do  you  want  here,  Cormac?" 
she  said.  "I  have  no  more  sons  for  you 
to  slay." 

"I  want  a  boat  to  cross  the  water,"  he 
said.     "You  shall  be  well  paid  for  it." 

"Ah,  you'll  find  no  boats  here,"  she 
said.  "They  are  all  high  and  dry,  as  you 
see.  They  wait  for  the  shipwright.  They 
are  all  unseaworthy." 

Cormac  was  looking  at  the  boats.  One 
after  another  he  entered  and  eyed  over. 
There  was  a  hole  in  every  one  of  them. 

"You  hag!"  he  said.  "This  is  your 
doing.     You  have  been  at  your  tricks." 

She  frowned  at  him,  but  lifted  her  head 
high  and  seemed  to  look  down  at  him 
with  scorn. 


CHASE  161 

"And  what  is  it  to  you  what  I  please 
to  do  with  my  own  ?  Did  you  not  so  with 
yours  when  you  bade  me  off  your  land  ? 
And  why  may  you  be  wanting  a  boat  on 
this  water,  which  is  none  of  yours?"  And 
then  she  came  closer  to  him  and  pried  into 
his  face.  "And  why  should  I  help  you  at 
all,  Cormac?"  she  asked  him. 

But  Cormac  had  forgotten  her  and  her 
boats  and  was  looking  over  the  blue  and 
windy  water.  The  boat  was  more  than 
half-way  across.  Again  he  flung  up  his  hand 
with  the  axe;  and  when  again  he  saw 
the  white  sleeve  lift  he  pressed  his 
knees  into  his  horse  as  if  he  would  ride 
into  the  water  and  swim  after  Stangerd. 
But  just  then  Thorgils  and  his  company 
rode  up. 

Thorgils  asked  the  spae-wife  the  same 
question — Could  they  have  a  boat  ? 

"Boats!  Boats!"  she  cried.  "Look  at 
the  boats.  There's  not  one  sound  one 
amongst  them  all." 


1 62  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"No,  you  old  vixen !"  Cormac  said. 
"That's  because  you  have  stove  them  in." 

He  picked  out  one  of  them,  nevertheless. 
"I'll  try  this,"  he  said  to  Thorgils.  "We 
can  caulk  her  with  mud  and  rushes." 

Thorgils  shook  his  head.  "Better  not 
— she'll  sink  you.  It  will  be  quicker  in  the 
end  to  ride  round  by  the  head  of  the  firth." 

"Go  as  you  will,"  said  Cormac.  "I 
shall  take  this  boat." 

"You  shall  pay  for  her — you  shall  pay!" 
cried  the  spae-wife. 

Cormac  was  on  his  feet,  tugging  at  the 
boat. 

"Give  her  the  hire,  and  let  me  be  out," 
he  said. 

Thorgils  bargained  with  her  for  half  a 
mark,  and  Cormac  led  his  horse  into  the 
boat,  when  they  had  caulked  her  with  rope 
and  pitch.  Toste  went  with  him  to  help 
him  row.  They  had  got  about  a  bowshot 
out  when  the  old  tub  began  to  fill.  Almost 
before  those  on  shore  understood  as  much, 


CHASE  163 

the  water  was  over  the  gunwale,  and  men 
and  horses  were  in  the  water. 

"Ah,    you    old    b h!"    Thorgils    cried 

to  the  woman.  "You  would  drown  my 
brother,  would  you?" 

She  had  her  lips  locked  together,  and  cold 
fire  in  her  eyes.  She  nodded  her  head 
sharply  three  or  four  times.  She  was  a 
great  hater. 

But  the  men  and  the  horses  came  ashore; 
and  Cormac  owned  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  go  round  the  firth-head.  That 
put  a  good  fifteen  miles  on  to  the  journey, 
and  would  make  him  too  late.  He  had 
lost  her ! 

He  said  nothing  about  it,  and  was  surprised 
himself  to  find  that  he  had  no  wish  to  kill 
anybody.  Before  he  could  reach  Sowerby 
Stangerd  would  be  lost  to  him.  He  found 
that  he  loved  her  the  more  for  the  thought 
of  that.  He  had  not — at  least,  not  at  this 
moment  of  first  certainty — the  jealous  rage 
of  the  lover  who  knows  that  his  mistress  is 


1 64  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

possessed  by  another  man.  The  thought  of 
her  beauty  mounted  his  head  like  wine. 

The  whole  troop  of  them  rode  round  the 
head  of  Ramfirth.  The  first  house  they 
came  to  was  Mull,  where  a  man  called  Wale 
lived.  He  was  a  friend  of  Berse's,  and 
had  been  at  the  wedding. 

This  Wale  was  standing  at  the  gate  of 
his  court,  waiting  for  them.  Greetings 
passed. 

Cormac  said,  "Shall  we  find  Berse  up 
at  his  house,  think  you  ?  We  are  come 
to  deal  with  him  ?" 

Wale  answered  him:  "You  will  find  him 
there,  sure  enough.  It  is  two  hours'  riding. 
And  he  has  been  home  this  two  hours  or 
more.  There's  a  great  company  there 
with  him.     I  think  you  will  do  little  good." 

Thorgils  looked  at  Cormac,  being  himself 
sure  they  were  come  on  a  fool's  errand. 
But  Cormac  was  thinking  of  other  things. 
So  then  Thorgils  said,  "Brother,  what  say 
you  ?     To  my  mind  it  is  foolishness,  going 


CHASE  165 

on.  We  can  do  nothing  against  them. 
They  have  the  law,  they  have  the  lady,  and 
they  will  be  more  than  we." 

Cormac  then  gave  him  a  glance:  it  was 
no  more  than  a  glance.  "Do  as  you  will," 
he  said.  "I  shall  go  on,  for  I  must  see 
Stangerd." 

"You  will  never  see  her,"  said  Thorgils. 

Cormac  made  no  reply,  but  still  looked 
up  the  shadowed  valley  whither  they  had 
taken  her. 

Presently  he  seemed  to  come  to  himself, 
and  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  moved  up 
the  path  at  a  walk.  Thorgils  looked  about 
at  the  faces  of  his  friends.  "What  are 
we  to  do  with  him?"  he  said  to  Toste. 
'We  had  better  follow.  No  one  knows 
what  may  befall  him." 

Toste  tossed  his  head  up.  "A  bad 
business  to  my  thinking — but  you  are  right." 

So  they  went  up  the  road  after  Cormac, 
and  all  together  into  the  dark  valley  among 
the   rocks,   where   Berse   had   his   homestead 


1 66  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

well  fortified  against  the  weather  and  his 
enemies.  As  they  rounded  the  tongue  of 
land  which  made  a  natural  outpost  to  the 
place,  they  saw  that  they  were  expected. 
Berse  stood  there  in  war-gear,  surrounded 
by  his  friends.  There  were  twenty  to  thirty 
of  them. 

The  party  from  Melstead  drew  rein,  and 
each  side  looked  at  the  other  for  a  while. 
Then  Cormac  left  his  company  and  cantered 
forward  alone.  Seeing  that,  Berse,  who  was 
on  foot,  came  out  to  meet  him,  but  not  a 
long  way. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

PARLEY 

(^ORMAC  was  hot  and  fierce.  "Berse," 
he  said,  "you  have  behaved  falsely 
to  me,  who  never  did  you  any  harm." 

"Not   a  bit  of  it,"   said   Berse. 

"But  I  say  that  you  have.  Stangerd 
was  my  plighted  wife,  and  all  the  country 
knew  it.  This  wedding  was  done  without 
my  knowledge  and  against  her  will — and 
you  have  betrayed  us." 

Berse  looked  away  from  him  into  the 
sky.  There  was  a  queer  light  in  his  eyes, 
as  if  he  saw  strange  birds  flying,  and  was 
more  amused  than  curious  about  them. 

"All   this,"   he   said,    "is   very   wild   talk; 

but    I    understand    you.      You    had    better 

167 


1 68  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

tell  me  what  it  is  you  want — seeing  the 
deed  is  done." 

Cormac  mastered  himself,  and  spoke  as 
coolly  as  he  could,  but  in  a  carrying  voice. 
"I  am  come  to  have  Stangerd  back  again, 
and  ransom  of  the  affront." 

Berse  looked  now  at  his  friend  Thord 
Arndisson,  who  was  by  him.  He  nodded 
his  head  two  or  three  times,  and  had  the 
same  gleam  of  amusement  in  his  eyes. 

"Fine  talk,"  he  said,  "brave  talk, 
but "  He  gave  up  the  attempt.  What- 
ever was  the  use  of  talking  like  this  ? 

Thord  Arndisson  spoke. 

"Cormac,"  said  he,  "when  you  are 
cooler  you  will  see  that  you  are  asking  out- 
landish things.  Now  let  us  be  reasonable. 
Berse  here  acted  as  his  right  was,  knowing 
nothing  of  you  or  your  affairs.  What  he 
was  told,  that  he  understood;  and  it  was 
that  a  day  was  fixed  for  the  marriage,  and 
that  you  did  not  come,  but  instead  of  you, 
your  brother  Thorgils  came  with  the  news 


PARLEY  169 

that  he  could  not  find  you;  and  'Maybe 
he  is  abroad,'  he  said.  Now  I  offer  you 
terms  on  behalf  of  Berse;  but  certainly 
Berse  keeps  the  woman." 

Berse  said:  "Cormac,  there  is  no  question 
of  Stangerd  going  back  with  you.  That 
I  shall  never  agree  to,  nor  will  she,  as  you 
will  find  if  you  ask  her.  Instead  of  her, 
I  will  give  you  my  sister  Hilda  for  a  wife. 
She  is  here  in  the  house,  and  you  can  go 
and  look  at  her.  But  if  you  get  her,  you 
will  be  very  well  married,  in  my  opinion. 
I  can't  say  fairer  for  you  than  that." 

Cormac  stood  frowning  and  biting  his 
cheek.  He  was  looking  at  the  house  for 
any  sign  of  Stangerd,  but  the  door  was 
shut,  and  there  was  nothing  to  see. 

Thorgils  thought  very  well  of  Berse's 
offer.  "It  is  very  fair,"  he  said,  and  then 
to  Cormac:  "Let  us  talk  about  this, 
Cormac." 

Just  then  a  woman  called  out  from  the 
throng  behind   the   two  brothers:    "Do   no 


i;o  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

such  folly,  Thorgils."  And  then  she  stepped 
out  from  the  company.  She  was  a  woman 
called  Thordis,  who  lived  at  Spaewife's  Fell. 

"Out  on  it,"  she  said  sharply.  "Don't 
you  be  trickt  by  them.  That  woman  is 
a  fool;  and  you  expect  a  fine  man  like 
Cormac  to  take  to  her  ?    Madness,  Cormac  !" 

Thord  Arndisson  was  much  put  out.  "Get 
back  with  you,  witch-wife."  He  turned 
to  Cormac,  saying:  "I  tell  you  that  Hilda 
will  turn  out  a  wonder  of  the  world." 

Cormac  said,  "She  may  burn  the  world 
out  for  aught  I  care.  She  will  never 
burn  me." 

Thorgils  would  have  urged  him  again; 
but  now  Cormac  could  hear  no  voice  but 
his  own.     He  confronted  Berse. 

"Berse,"  he  said,  "there  is  but  one  thing 
to  do.  I  challenge  you  to  wager-of-battle 
in  fifteen  days  at  the  Leet-holm." 

At  this  place  Berse  had  fought  many 
and  many  a  wager  out. 

"I  know  the  way  to  Leet-holm  very  well," 


PARLEY  171 

he  said;  "better  than  you  do,  I  expect. 
I  will  be  there,  don't  doubt  me;  but  I  take 
leave  to  tell  you  that  there  is  less  joy  for 
you  at  Leet-holm  than  there  may  be  here 
in  Sowerby  if  you  choose  for  it." 

"But  I  don't  choose,"  said  Cormac,  and 
made  to  go  by  him  towards  the  house. 
Thord  Arndisson  went  after  him. 

"Where  are  you  for?"  he  called  out. 
Cormac  stopped,  and  turned  full  round  to 
face  him  and  Berse. 

"I  am  going  into  Berse's  house,  to  see 
Stangerd.     Are  you  for  stopping  me?" 

Thord  said  to  Berse:  "Do  you  hear 
that?" 

"I  do,"  said  Berse. 

"Is  he  to  go  in  ?" 

"Why  not?"  said  Berse. 

Cormac  by  this  time  was  half-way  to 
the  house.  Berse's  men  made  a  road  for 
him.  He  went  to  the  door,  shook  the  latch, 
and  gave  a  kick  with  his  foot  which  sent 
it  flying  open. 


172  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

The  great  hall  was  set  for  a  feast,  and  the 
women  were  still  about  the  tables.  Hilda  was 
there,  and  Stanvor  also;    but  not  Stangerd. 

Cormac  asked  for  her.  Hilda  looked 
doubtfully  about  her;  but  Stanvor  was 
not  at  all  afraid. 

'You  will  find  her  in  the  Bower,"  she 
said,  and  went  on  with  her  business. 

Cormac  went  into  the  Bower.  Stangerd 
rose  up.  She  wore  her  golden  wreath,  and 
was  very  quiet.  She  said  nothing,  and 
they  looked  at  each  other  for  a  while. 

Then  Cormac  went  to  her  and  put  a  hand 
on  either  shoulder. 

"You  could  not  wait  for  me,  my  dear, 
— and  now  I  am  too  late." 

She  would  not  look  up.  "I  should  have 
waited  if  I  could,"  she  said;  "but  you 
kept  me  too  long." 

He  said,  "Had  I  kept  you  a  thousand 
years,  that  would  not  have  cooled  my  love. 
You  told  me  that  you  were  steadfast." 


PARLEY  173 

"So  I  am,"  she  said. 

"You  should  have  come  with  me  when 
I  called  you,"  he  said.  "I  told  you  long 
ago  how  I  would  have  wedded  you.  You 
should  have  come  into  my  arms  then  and 
there,  and  I  would  have  carried  you  away 
— but  you  have  chosen  differently." 

She  said:  "I  have  not  chosen  at  all." 

"No  more  reproaches,"  said  Cormac, 
"between  you  and  me.  I  shall  never  give 
you  up.  You  are  my  love.  But  I  will 
do  you  no  wrong." 

She  was  more  moved  than  he  was,  though 
she  stayed  very  quiet  under  his  hands. 
She  did  not  raise  her  head  to  look  at  him, 
nor  did  he  ask  her.  For  a  little  time  longer 
they  remained  standing  so  together;  and 
then  he  shook  his  head  suddenly  and  left 
her. 

Presently  Stanvor  Slimlegs  came  into  the 
Bower    and    moved    about    Stangerd    where 
she  still  stood  in  mid-floor. 
Then   Stanvor  came  near  her,   and   said: 


174  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"Listen,  Stangerd.  I  love  Berse,  and  shall 
not  leave  him  unless  you  force  me." 

"I  shall  not  force  you,"  said   Stangerd. 

"He  does  not  care  for  me  in  the  way 
of  marriage,  or  he  could  have  married  me 
when  he  chose.  And  you  care  little  for 
him,  I  fancy.  The  world  is  a  strange  one 
for  women.  I  would  give  all  I  have  to 
be  where  you  will  be  to-night,  and  you,  I 
suppose,  would  give  the  same  for  my  place." 

"No,  I  would  not,"  said  Stangerd.  "I 
would  keep  what  I  have  if  I  could." 

"You  would  keep   it  for  Cormac?" 

But  Stangerd  said,  "Cormac  will  never 
have  anything  of  mine." 

They  stood  near  together,  these  two, 
looking  out  of  window.  Words  seemed 
upon  the  edges  of  their  lips,  which  might 
have  been  winged  if  they  had  gained 
utterance.  Stanvor  always  looked  like  that, 
as  if  she  was  full  of  sayings  which  she  could 
not  frame  into  speech.  She  seemed  to  be 
worn  thin  and  fine  with  the  burden  of  what 


PARLEY  175 

she  wanted  to  declare.  Stangerd  was  silent 
also.  She  was  deeply  despondent,  and  had 
not,  perhaps,  any  desire  to  unbosom  herself. 
They  stood  so  for  quite  a  long  time,  looking 
out  at  the  dusk  gathering  about  the  folds 
of  the  mountain. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CORMAC  MAKES  READY 

/^ORMAC    made    this     song,     and     sang 
it     to    himself     as    he    wandered    the 
fell: 

Berse,  you  have  dared  impossibly, 
Taking  what  I  have  feared  to  take — 
Looking  where  I  have  feared  to  see, 
Dipping  where  none  may  dip  and  be 
Still  man,  within  the  lonely  lake. 

To  have  scaled  the  awful  mountain  pass, 

To  have  seen  unblencht  the  untrod  snows, 

Affronting  with  your  front  of  brass 

The  heart  of  the  everlasting  rose — 

You  have  dared  enough  and  shall  give  o'er 

Your  daring.    You  have  dared  so  much: 

Let  it  suffice.    No  more,  no  more. 

176 


CORMAC  MAKES   READY  177 

Yet  seeing  by  that  desperate  touch 
There  is  come  glory  on  your  brow; 
And  to  your  name  the  pride  is  such 
The  man  who  bears  it  he  must  die, 
I  tell  you,  Berse,  the  time  is  now 
Before  you've  time  to  blur  and  dull  it 
With  your  gross  brain  and  teeming  eye 
And  tongue,  when  righteous  hand  shall  clutch 
Your  throat  and  take  you  by  the  gullet 
And  wrench  the  life  out,  and  the  lie 
You  make  of  it — and  here's  the  sign — 
The  clutching  hand  writes  this:  'tis  mine. 

He  got  great  comfort  out  of  these  lines, 
but  his  brother  looked  askance  at  them, 
and  his  mother  gave  him  other  counsel. 

"My  son,"  she  said,  "you  have  to  con- 
front a  champion  in  a  play  which  he  knows 
by  heart.  Have  you  thought  how  you  shall 
go  to  work  ?" 

Cormac  said  that  he  had. 

"Well,"  said  his  brother,  "have  you 
considered  with  what  weapon  you  will  meet 
Berse?" 

Cormac  said,  "I  will  have  a  heavy  axe, 
with  a  long  handle." 


178  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"And  he,"  said  Dalla,  "will  have  Whiting, 
which  is  a  sharp  sword,  and  a  charmed 
sword.  It  has  a  healing-stone  in  its  hilt. 
It  would  turn  any  axe  you  could  get." 

Cormac  was  put  out.  "I  would  trust 
my  fingers  to  reach  his  windpipe,"  he  said, 
"and  after  that  let  Whiting  bite  the  grass." 

"All  this  is  foolishness,"  his  mother 
replied.  "I  am  the  widow  of  your  father, 
who  was  a  fighting  man,  and  know  what  I 
am  talking  about.  Now  do  you  go  to  see 
Skeggi  of  Reykir  and  ask  him  for  Shavening. 
That  is  a  sword  of  renown." 

"I  know  it  is,"  said  Cormac. 

He  thought  after  a  while  that  he  would  go. 

Skeggi  was  an  elderly  man  who  lived  at 
Reykir,  across  the  Mid-river.  Melstead 
looked  upon  Reykir.  Skeggi  was  also  a 
heavy,  ruminating  man  who,  instead  of 
answering  a  direct  question  directly,  used 
to  say,  "Let  us  see,"  or  "Let  us  think 
about  it."  That  was  just  what  he  said 
when     Cormac     came     for     the     loan     of 


CORMAC  MAKES   READY  179 

Shavening.  He  was  threshing  corn  in  his 
barn,  and,  having  heard  what  Cormac 
wanted,  said  that  they  must  think  it  over, 
and  went  on  with  his  threshing.  Cormac 
contained  himself  as  well  as  he  could,  which 
was  very  little  indeed;  but  Skeggi  was 
not  to  be  moved  by  finger-nail  biting  or 
ramping  up  and  down  the  doorway. 

Then,  when  he  had  done  all  he  had  a 
mind  to  do,  he  hung  up  his  flail,  and  came 
to  Cormac. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  "it  would  never  do." 

"Do  you  mean,"  said  Cormac,  "that  you 
will  not  lend  me  your  sword  ?" 

"My  meaning,"  said  Skeggi,  "is  like  this. 
You  two  would  not  get  on  together.  That 
is  what  I  mean." 

"I  don't  understand  that,"  Cormac  told 
him. 

"Shavening,  my  sword,"  said  Skeggi,  "is 
what  we  call  a  slow  sword.  It  is  a  deliberate 
sword,  a  sword  of  queer  temper.  Now  you, 
too,  are  of  a  queer  temper,  I  can  see;    but 


180  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

the  queerness  of  your  temper  is  not  the 
queerness  of  Shavening's  temper.  Why,  you 
would  be  for  slicing  and  hewing  before 
Shavening  had  made  up  his  mind  to  quit 
the  sheath.  Tush !  no  good  could  come 
of  it."  He  shook  his  head,  and  felt  the 
beard  on  his  chin.  He  raised  his  head  and 
stroked  up  the  beard  of  his  neck. 

"My  question,  Skeggi,  is,  Will  you  or 
will  you  not  lend  me  your  sword?" 

Skeggi  looked  at  him,  suspending  his  work 
at  his  beard. 

"That's  a  question!"  he  said.  "We 
must  think  about  that." 

"Pish!"   said  Cormac,  and  went  away. 


He  came  home  in  a  red  flurry  of  rage,  and 
it  was  long  before  his  mother  could  get  a 
word  out  of  him.  Then  she  said,  "You 
go  to  work  madly,  my  son.  Skeggi  will 
lend  you  Shavening,  but  not  that  gait. 
You  must  take  a  man  as  a  man  takes  you. 


CORMAC  MAKES   READY  181 

If  he  is  slow-minded,  you  must  keep  yourself 
slow.     He  will  lend  you  Shavening." 

Cormac  frowned.  "It  will  be  a  fine  thing 
for  a  man  who  is  to  meet  a  champion  at  the 
Holm  that  he  owes  his  weapon  to  his  mother." 

Dalla  said,  "He  owes  it  to  his  mother 
that  he  is  able  to  go  there  at  all." 


After  a  few  days  she  spoke  to  her  unruly 
son  again.  "Go  and  see  Skeggi,"  she  said, 
"and  treat  him  fairly.  He  will  lend  you 
his  sword." 

So  Cormac  rides  over  to  Reykir  a  second 
time. 

Skeggi  was  ready  for  him.  He  brought 
the  sword  out  from  under  his  bedding;  it 
was  wrapped  up  in  a  sheepskin.  He  un- 
folded the  fleece  and  laid  Shavening  on  his 
knees.  Shavening  had  a  long  handle  with  a 
short  guard.  Attached  to  the  handle  by 
two  leather  thongs  was  a  purse  of  leather 
sewn    up.      "This    purse,"    he    said,    "goes 


1 82  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

about  with  Shavening  everywhere.  Now, 
you  must  leave  that  alone." 

Cormac,  frowning  at  the  sword,  nodded 
his  head  shortly. 

Skeggi  went  on  talking.  "Now  these  are 
the  matters  to  be  known  in  your  conduct 
of  Shavening.  First,  the  sun  must  not  shine 
upon  either  hilt  or  guard:  see  first  of  all  to 
that,  and  keep  him  in  his  sheepskin  until 
you  want  him.  Next,  you  shall  not  wear 
him  until  the  morning  of  the  day  when 
you  have  use  for  him — not,  indeed,  until 
you  are  to  ride  out  for  the  place  of  your 
battle.  And  when  you  get  to  your  battle- 
place,  this  is  what  you  shall  do.  You  shall 
take  yourself  apart  from  all  men,  and  draw 
Shavening  slowly  from  his  scabbard  until 
you  have  him  fair  in  the  light.  Stretch 
him  out  his  length,  hold  him  up,  and  blow 
upon  him.  Then  watch  him.  A  little  snake 
will  come  forth  from  under  the  guard,  with 
a  flat  head.  He  will  come  out  half-way 
and    look    at    you.      Now    you    must    hold 


CORMAC  MAKES   READY  183 

Shavening  steady,  and  in  such  a  way  that 
the  snake  can  go  back  under  the  hilt.  Do 
you  follow  me  in  every  point?" 

Cormac  was  frowning  himself  black.  "I 
hear  you,"  he  said,  "and  I  understand 
you.  But  let  me  tell  you  that  those  are 
tricks  for  a  wizard." 

Skeggi  said,  "It  may  be  so;  but  you 
will  either  do  as  I  tell  you,  or  be  sorry  for 
it."  He  wrapped  Shavening  again  in  his 
skeepskin  and  handed  him  over  without 
another  word. 

Cormac  rode  home. 

He  thanked  his  mother  for  her  help.  "I 
was  uncivil,"  he  said.  "Without  you  I 
should  never  have  got  it." 

"So  you  have  got  it?"  she  asked. 

"Here  is  the  wonder-brand,"  he  said,  and 
took  it  out  of  the  sheepskin.  Dalla  felt  it 
up  and  down  with  her  hands. 

Cormac  shook  it,  weighed  it  in  his  hand, 
and  turned  it  about.  Then  he  set  his  other 
hand  to  it  and  tried  to  draw  it;  but  it  would 


1 84  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

not  budge.  "A  plague  take  it,"  he  said. 
"It  works  too  stiff  for  me.  It  works  as 
stiff  as  its  master." 

"Take  care,"  said  Dalla;  "you  are  too 
rough  with  him." 

But  Cormac  was  angry,  and  the  more  he 
tugged  the  angrier  he  got. 

"A  blight  on  wizardry!"  he  cried.  He 
put  his  foot  on  the  scabbard  and  tugged 
at  the  hilt.  The  purse  got  in  his  way: 
he  tore  it  off.  Then  he  pulled  with  all  his 
might.  Shavening  screamed,  but  would  not 
come  out.  Cormac  flung  it  on  the  floor, 
and  went  out  of  the  house.  Dalla  picked  it 
up,  mended  the  purse-strings,  and  wrapped 
Shavening  again  in  his  fleece. 

Cormac  took  no  further  heed  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BATTLE 

CO   the   day   came    round    for   the   battle, 

and     Cormac     with     his     brother     and 

his    men    rode    out    to    the    Holm    which 

is  called   Leet-holm,   a  day's   and   a  night's 

journey  for  the  party;    but  not  so  far  for 

Berse  and  his  party. 

Berse  went  off  before  it  was  light,  and  left 

Stangerd  in  bed.     She  would  have  nothing 

to  say  to  him  about  it,  but  he  kept  his  temper. 

Young   Stanvor   Slimlegs  was   astir  to  give 

him   a  horn   of  hot   drink   and   to   see   him 

ride   away.     She   served   him  while  he  was 

fastening  up  his  fighting-gear;    she  brought 

him    Whiting    and    buckled    it    upon    him; 

then  his  cloak  to  go  over  all.    There  was  no 

185 


1 86  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

speech  between  them  till  just  the  end,  when 
Berse  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and 
said:    "Good  girl!" 

Stanvor  then  said,  "Good  luck  to  your 
fighting !" 

Berse  pulled  a  wry  face,  and  jerked  back 
his  head  on  his  shoulders. 

"That  is  much  more  than  she  says." 

Stanvor  replied,  "She  does  not  know 
her  own  fortune.     But  she  will  know  it." 

Stangerd,  lying  in  her  bed  with  her  hands 
between  her  knees,  heard  them  talking. 
She  ground  her  teeth  together  and  listened. 
There  was  no  more  said.  "Now  they  are 
kissing,"  she  thought. 

But  it  was  not  so.  Berse  left  the  house 
without  more  ado  and  rode  away  down 
the  valley,  neither  speaking  to  Stanvor  any 
more,  nor  looking  at  her. 


Leet-holm  on  Whamfirth  is  a  flat  meadow 
beside  the  river.     The  fells  stand  all  round 


BATTLE  187 

about,  so  that  you  scarcely  sec  where  is 
the  road  to  the  sea.  It  is  hard  ground  at 
most  times  of  the  year,  and  a  very  good 
battle-ground. 

Cormac  and  his  men  were  first  to  b'e  there; 
he  was  in  a  bad  temper,  and  had  done,  so 
far,  none  of  the  things  he  had  be'en  told 
to  do.  He  had  girt  himself  with  Shavening 
outside  his  clothes,  so  that  the  sun  had  shone 
upon  the  hilt  from  its  first  rising.  And  he 
had  taken  off  and  left  behind  him  the  purse 
which  Skeggi  said  was  to  be  left  in  place. 
He  was,  in  fact,  most  perverse. 

When  the  two  parties  were  within  hail, 
Berse  rode  forward  and  saluted  Cormac's 
company. 

"Let  me  have  a  word  with  you,  my 
friends,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "and  most  of 
all  with  you,  Cormac. " 

Cormac,  scowling,  said,  "We  are  not 
come  to  have  words  with  you." 

"But  you  shall  have  them,  whether  or 
no,"  said   Berse;    "and  I  have  this  to  say. 


1 88  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

You  are  a  young  man  and  I  am  not;  you 
have  fought  little  and  I  have  fought  much. 
You  have  challenged  me  to  wager-of-battle, 
which  is  a  tricky  game  wherein  neither 
rage,  nor  spleen,  nor  youth,  nor  muscle  will 
help  you  so  much  as  a  cool  head  and  a 
knowledge  of  the  game.  These  have  I. 
Now,  if  you  will,  the  battle  shall  be  changed 
to  a  fighting-match.  That  is,  a  bout  where 
there  are  no  rules  but  the  rules  of  nature. 
Wild  cats  can  play  that  game,  and  moor- 
cocks know  it  well.  Take  it  as  you  will: 
I  mean  fairly.'* 

Thorgils  said,  "Nothing  could  be  more 
honourably  spoken,"  and  all  his  friends 
agreed  among  each  other  that  he  was 
right. 

Cormac  would  not  accept  of  it.  He  shook 
off  Thorgils  and  moved  apart. 

"I  will  abide  by  the  challenge,"  he  said. 
"I  will  face  you  in  any  way,  and  match 
myself  with  you  in  everything.  If  you 
know  the  rules,  I  will  learn  them." 


BATTLE  189 

Berse  shrugged  his  shoulder.  "Be  it  so. 
I  have  done  my  best  for  you." 

Then  they  prepared  the  ground  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  wager-of-battle.  They 
stretched  an  ox-hide  on  the  ground  and 
pegged  it  out  with  hazel-wands.  Upon  this 
they  set  the  champions  facing  each  other; 
and  then  the  shield-bearers  stood  up.  In 
wager-of-battle  either  man  has  a  shield- 
bearer,  who  defends  him  with  three  shields 
in  turn.  If  these  are  cloven  without  a 
scratch  given  or  received,  the  men  fight 
without  shields,  save  the  targets  they  carry 
for  themselves,  until  blood  falls  upon  the 
hide  or  one  man  is  driven  off  it. 

$  *  *  *  $ 

Now  Cormac  forgot  all  the  rest  of  Skeggi's 
instructions.  He  did  not  withdraw  himself 
when  he  unbuckled  Shavening,  and  instead 
of  unsheathing  him  slowly  he  tried  to  get 
him    out    with    a    quick    jerk.      Shavening 


igo  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

would  not  budge.  Cormac,  red  and  furious, 
took  him  by  the  point  of  the  scabbard,  set 
his  feet  upon  the  guards  of  the  hilt  and 
tore  the  scabbard  off  him  by  main  force. 
Shavening  screamed  as  he  came  out.  The 
snake  did  not  show  himself  at  all,  but  instead 
a  dull  mist  settled  down  upon  the  blade, 
and  did  not  all  clear  off  again,  running  before 
the  strength  of  the  sun;  but  some  remained 
in  blotches  upon  him. 

Berse  said,  "I  know  that  sword  of  old. 
That's  not  the  way  to  treat  him."  His 
little  bright  eyes  were  twinkling,  and  he 
twitched  his  cheek-bones  incessantly.  He 
took  his  stand  upon  the  hide  without  any 
fuss,  walking  to  it  as  if  he  knew  the  way 
very  well — as  indeed  he  did — talking  as  he 
went  to  his  shield-bearer,  and  making  jokes. 
Cormac  was  serious,  and  had  nothing  to 
say.  He  felt  that  all  eyes  were  on  him,  to 
see  where  and  how  he  failed  in  the  laws  of 
this  battle.  But  he  did  not  require  to  be 
shown    where    to    stand.      Thorgils    was    his 


BATTLE  191 

shield-bearer,  and  the  first  blow  was  to 
Berse. 

Whiting  seemed  to  cut  leather  and  wattle 
like  butter.  He  sliced  through  the  rim  and 
shore  the  shield  in  two  halves,  but  did  not 
touch  Cormac,  or  drive  him  back.  Then 
Cormac,  in  his  turn,  cut  at  Berse's  shield. 
Shavening  would  have  worked  more  easily 
if  he  had  not  been  so  driven.  But  as  it 
was,  the  shield  was  broken  rather  than  cut, 
and  Shavening  required  some  force  to  be 
withdrawn.  Berse  blinked,  and  shook  his 
head  to  see  that.  It  was  on  the  tip  of  his 
tongue  to  give  advice — but  he  stopped 
himself  in  time. 

The  three  shields  to  a  man,  allowed  by 
the  laws,  were  broken,  and  then  the 
champions  faced  each  other  with  sword  and 
targe.  Berse  was  now  warmed  to  his  work, 
and  the  battle-joy  shone  like  points  of  fire 
in  his  eyes.  He  meant  business  now,  one 
could  see.  Cormac  was  very  still,  and  rather 
grey  in  the  face.     He  was  the  first  to  attack 


192  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

and  Bersc  parried  him,  took  a  step  back- 
wards, which  brought  him  to  the  edge  of 
the  hide,  dipped  sideways,  ran  in  under 
cover  of  his  round  shield,  and  made  a  feint 
at  Cormac's  left  shoulder.  Cormac  stopped 
him  there,  and  Berse  swung  Whiting  round 
and  brought  him  down  like  a  squall  to 
Cormac's  right.  Cormac  got  Shavening  up 
in  time,  and  caught  Whiting  at  the  point 
where  the  ridge  ends  and  the  blade  gets  thin. 
Shavening  sliced  through  Whiting  and 
dispointed  him.  The  point  spun  in  the  air 
like  a  coin  and  struck  Cormac  on  the  sword 
hand.  It  cut  the  knuckle  to  the  bone, 
and  the  blood  spurted.  Men  gave  a  cry, 
and  then  it  was  seen  that  Shavening  had 
come  down  upon  Berse's  target  and  got 
a  jag  in  himself.  Berse  had  given  back 
to  the  edge  of  the  hide,  and  Cormac  was 
in  the  act  to  rush  in  upon  him  when 
Thorgils  lifted  his  arm  and  prevented  him. 
"Bloodshed,"  he  said.  "The  fight  is 
done,  brother." 


BATTLE  193 

Cormac  glared  at  him,  and  next  at 
Berse;  but  now  the  onlookers  were  between 
the  champions.  The  fight  was  over,  Cormac 
bleeding  freely  from  the  hand. 

Berse  was  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  face. 
"I'm  shorter  in  the  wind  than  I  was," 
he  said  to  his  friends.  "If  Cormac  were  not 
in  such  a  rage,  he  would  have  done  better. 
As  it  is,  he  has  done  well." 

"He'll  not  be  satisfied  with  this,"  a  man 
said. 

"He'll  have  to  pay  the  blood-money," 
said  Berse. 


Cormac  was  not  at  all  satisfied.  "Does 
he  call  that  victory  ?  A  scratch  from  a 
broken  sword-point  ?  Can  he  do  no  better  ? 
Let  him  get  a  sword  from  his  kindred  and 
meet  me  again.  I  have  one  hand  left." 
He  was  talking  wildly. 

Presently  Berse  pushed  through  the  crowd 
and  came  to  him. 


194  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"I  claim  the  ransom,"  he  said.  "You 
did  well,  Cormac;    but  I  bled  you." 

"You  shall  be  paid,"  said  Cormac;  "but 
this  is  not  the  end." 

"It  is,  for  me,"  Berse  said.  "Now  you 
have  a  nasty  jag  in  the  hand — no  fault  of 
yours,  but  pure  misfortune — and  you  have 
far  to  ride.  Now,  will  you  come  home 
with  me  and  get  it  dressed  there  ? 
Stangerd  shall  see  to  you.  I  promise  you 
that." 

Cormac  shook  the  blood  from  his  hand. 
"Do  you  think  that  I  will  see  my  love  in 
your  house,  and  the  bed  wherein  you  lie  ? 
I  would  bleed  to  death  before  I  saw  it.  Get 
you  gone  with  your  broken  sword,  and  find 
you  another.  There  is  no  end  to  the  strife 
between  us.  You  have  stolen  my  love, 
and  every  hour  that  you  spend  with  her  is 
horrible  to  me.  For  every  hour  of  it  you 
shall  pay  me  back." 

You    are    talking    wildly,"    said    Berse. 

But   I   see  that  you  would   take  anything 


BATTLE  195 

amiss.     Even  if  she  came  to  you  now  you 
would    revile    her   for    the    deed.      We    had 
better   part    now;     but    I    wish   you   well — 
and  more  sense." 
So  they  parted. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

BERSE  GOES  HOME 

AT  the  door  of  his  house  stood  Stanvor 
Slimlegs  in  a  white  gown,  with  the 
fire  of  welcome  shining  in  her  face. 
Berse  chuckled  to  himself  to  see  her  there, 
and  said  to  his  friend  Thord:  "That's  a 
good  little  girl,  mighty  fond  of  me." 

"So  she  is,  then,"  says  Thord.  "Any- 
body might  see  that." 

Berse  at  first  had  no  better  comment 
than  a  grunt.  "There's  one  at  home 
might  see  it  and  care  no  more  than  one 
fly  cares  for  another  that  has  his  legs  in 
the  honey-pot." 

"You     married     her    against    her    will," 

Thord  told  him. 

196 


BERSE  GOES   HOME  197 

"I'll  get  her  good-will  yet,"  Berse  said. 
"I've  had  everything  I  wanted  out  of  the 
world  so  far,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be  denied 
now."  He  stopped  there;  then,  just  as 
they  were  in  the  court,  he  said,  "She's 
as  cold  as  a  fish.  You  might  as  well  make 
love  to  a  dead  woman." 

"If  Stangerd  is  cold,"  said  Thord,  "it 
is  because  she  is  banking  her  fire.  The 
fire  is  there." 

Stanvor  did  not  move  from  the  doorway, 
for  she  was  shy,  and  always  wary  in  what 
she  showed.  She  was  used  to  Berse's  plain 
way,  and  expected  no  more  than  she  got. 

"One-and-thirty  battles  now,"  she  said  as 
Berse  came  up. 

Berse  suddenly  laughed..  "One-and-thirty 
battles,  my  pretty  one!"  and  put  his 
arms  round  her  and  kissed  her  mouth. 
She  took  that  quietly,  and  freed  herself 
from  him  without  making  a  fuss.  You  notice 
— as  Berse  noticed — that  she  took  his  victory 
for  granted. 


198  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  asked  her,  Where  was  Stangerd.  She 
told  him,  In  the  Bower. 

"Does  she  not  know  we  have  come  home  ?" 

"I  think  she  does.  I  am  sure  she  does, 
because  I  told  her  when  I  saw  you  coming 
round  the  shoulder." 

Berse  twinkled,  looking  at  her.  "You 
have  a  far  sight,  my  child.'' 

She  made  no  answer  to  that,  and  moved 
away,  because  Stangerd  had  come  into  the 
hall,  and  stood  looking  at  Berse  and  his 
company. 

She  had  a  blue  gown  and  a  green  scarf 
over  one  shoulder  and  half  her  bosom.  Her 
eyes  were  watchful,  and  brighter  blue  than 
her  gown;  her  colour  was  high,  burning 
on  her  cheek-bones.  Certainly  she  was  the 
most  lovely  woman  in  Iceland.  Berse's 
courage  rose  to  meet  her. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "have  you  killed 
Cormac?"  She  spoke  sullenly,  without 
curiosity  or  anxiety;  but  Berse  was  very 
gay  and  laughed  at  her. 


BERSE  GOES   HOME  199 

"I  have  not,  my  dear.  I  am  too  old  a 
hand  for  such  folly  as  that.  Now  shall  I 
tell  you  in  Cormac's  way  what  I  have 
done?" 

She  looked  at  him  steadily.  "You  shall,,, 
she  said,  "if  you  can." 

Berse  did  not  lose  heart.  He  lifted  his 
sword  Whiting  as  if  it  had  been  the  back- 
bone of  a  harp,  and  struck  upon  it  with 
his  fingers. 

"Listen  all —    The  battle  flame 
Flickered  from  the  cloudy  dark, 
Breathing  slaughter;   on  he  came, 
Stood  within  the  withied  hide; 
There  the  old  war-dog  stood  stark. 
Shavening  screamed,  but  Whiting  met  him: 
Whiting  fell,  but  Shavening  bit  him — 
Took  his  nose  off,  flung  it  wide. 
Ill  to  see  and  ill  to  bide 
When  the  shard  flew  ofF  and  hit  him — 
Red  blood  flowed — the  law  must  hold. 
Yet  the  young  man  matcht  the  old." 

Stangerd,  whose  colour  was  very  hot 
now,    said,    "That    is   bad    poetry,    if    ever 


200  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

I  heard  it,  but  it  shows  you  a  generous 
man." 

Berse  laughed.  "Sweetheart,"  he  said, 
"I  should  like  to  please  you  if  I  could.  I 
tell  you  he  made  a  good  match.  A  fine 
fighter.     A  champion." 

She  said,  "You  do  please  me  by  such 
dealing." 

He  put  his  arm  round  her.  "You  have 
never  said  a  kinder  thing  to  me.  You 
make  me  a  generous  man  by  treating  me  so." 

Stanvor  Slimlegs  watched  them  from  a 
corner  of  the  room. 

Stangerd  drew  away,  but  not  roughly. 
Her  eyes  were  full  of  thought. 

Afterwards  she  and  Stanvor  served  the 
men  in  the  hall,  and  once,  as  she  stood  over 
Berse  to  pour  into  his  horn,  she  put  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  left  it  there  for 
a  while.  Berse  said  nothing  and  did  nothing 
except  twitch  his  face  and  blink  his  eyes;  but 
he  did  not  stay  very  long  in  the  hall.  That 
night  she  was  kinder  to  him  than  she  had 


BERSE  GOES  HOME  201 

ever  been  since  he  had  married  her;  and 
by  and  by  he  told  her  so. 

She  sighed  and  turned  away.  "You  are 
easily  satisfied,"  she  said. 

Little  Stanvor,  lying  awake,  was  full  of 
thought.  "He  is  a  wonderful  man  to  have 
brought  her  round.  Now  he  will  be  happy. 
He  can't  bear  to  have  glum  looks  about 
him.  He  might  have  four  women  here 
instead  of  two.  His  heart  is  large  enough 
for  them  all." 

In  the  morning  her  sharp  eyes  saw  con- 
firmation. Stangerd  was  very  sedate,  but 
her  eyes  were  not  haggard;  nor  was  she 
peevish.  Berse  was  full  of  his  jokes  and 
mischievous  tricks.  He  played  with  Stanvor 
and  made  Stangerd  jealous.  Then  he  made 
friends  with  Stangerd  against  her  will.  She 
would  not  look  at  him,  but  she  listened  to 
him,  and  in  spite  of  herself  laughed  at  what 
he  whispered  in  her  ear,  and  let  him  kiss  her. 
There  was  no  more  talk  of  Cormac;  and 
when   Berse  brought  out   Whiting  from  his 


202  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

scabbard  and  showed  him  to  the  two  girls 
with  his  ragged  square  end  where  the  point 
had  been  sliced  off  by  Shavening,  Stanvor, 
looking  guardedly  askance,  saw  that 
Stangerd's  eyes  were  very  bright.  She  said 
nothing — but  it  was  she  herself  who  turned 
the  grindstone  when  Berse  repointed  the 
blade. 

Then  she  began  to  do  little  offices  for  Berse, 
which  Stanvor  had  always  done  before. 
She  used  to  come  to  the  door  to  wait  for 
him,  and  find  Stanvor  there.  After  a  few 
days  of  that,  Stanvor  gave  up  going  there; 
but  she  watched  for  him  out  of  the  window 
of  the  hall.  She  fancied  sometimes  that 
Stangerd  might  really  be  jealous,  but  would 
be  too  proud  to  show  it.  That  made  her 
very  careful.  She  told  herself  that  she  would 
be  showing  her  love  for  Berse  a  very 
shabby  thing  if  she  stood  in  the  way  of 
what  his  heart  was  set  upon.  He  was 
making  progress  with  Stangerd,  it  was  very 
clear.       He     used     to     discuss     that     with 


BERSE  GOES  HOME  203 


■ 


Stanvor  whenever  he  found  himself 
alone  with  her.  He  would  say,  "The 
proud  girl  laughed  at  me  this  morning. 
She  has  a  kindness  for  me,  you  know, 
child.,, 

Stanvor  would  say,  "Be  sure  she  has. 
I  have  noticed  her." 

Once  Stanvor  told  him  things  which  she 
had  found  out.  "Stangerd  was  very  rest- 
less because  you  were  so  late  home,"  she 
told  him. 

"Was  she  indeed,  child  ?" 

"Yes.  She  couldn't  settle  to  anything. 
She  asked  me  three  times  to  tell  her  who 
would  be  at  the  horse-fighting,  and  after- 
wards at  Thord's  house. " 

Berse  twinkled,  and  rubbed  his  chin. 
"She  thought  there  might  be  women 
there." 

Stanvor  did  not  answer  at  first.  Pres- 
ently she  said,  "She  asked  me  if  I  thought 
there  would  be  any  girls  there." 

"And  what  did  you  say  ?" 


204  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Stanvor  opened  her  eyes  wider.  "I  said 
there  would  not  be  any." 

"Good!"  said  Berse.  "I  like  her 
question,  and  I  like  your  answer.  You  are 
a  girl  of  gold."  He  rubbed  his  hands 
together.  "We  are  getting  on — oh,  yes,  we 
are  getting  on.  She's  a  beauty — isn't  she 
now  ?" 

"I  think  she's  very  beautiful,"  Stanvor 
said. 

"So  she  is,  then,"  said  Berse,  then  looked 
closely  at  Stanvor,  and  then  stopped.  She 
had  turned  her  head  away,  but  showed  by 
no  other  sign  that  the  talk  was  painful  to 
her.  Berse  had  very  kind  looks  for  the 
young  girl,  and  served  her  with  them  very 
often. 

Cormac  made  no  sign  until  the  Spring, 
nor  was  the  ransom  paid.  But  when  the 
weather  opened  and  the  Spring  was  come 
there  was  talk  about  the  Thing  at  Thorsness 
where  Berse  would  go  and  some  of  Cormac's 


BERSE  GOES   HOME  205 

friends  would  certainly  be.  Berse  made  sure 
of  being  paid  there. 

When  the  time  came  that  Berse  was  to 
set  out  for  the  Thing,  Stangerd  wished  to 
go  with  him;  but  he  would  not  allow  her. 
"No,  no,  my  beauty,"  he  said.  "The 
Thing  is  no  place  for  women.  It's  rough 
lodging  there,  and  rough  work  is  done. 
Besides  that,  you  would  meet  your  old 
flame  there,  and  I  shouldn't  like  that  now." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily.  "Is  that 
what  you  are  afraid  of?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I'm  afraid  of  any- 
thing," he  said;  "but  you've  taken  a  liking 
for  me  lately  which  I  should  be  sorry  to 
have  disturbed." 

She  did  not  answer  him  directly.  She 
was  always  slow  to  speak.  Nobody  but 
Cormac  had  ever  got  a  confession  out  of  her. 
She  kept  her  eyes  fixed  towards  the  ground. 
"I  should  like  to  go  with  you,"  was  all 
she  had  to  say. 

Berse's    face    flickered.      "It    can't    be    so, 


206  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

my  dear.  I  am  sorry  about  it.  But  it 
would  make  trouble." 

"No,"  she  said,  "  it  would  not.  It  would 
spare  trouble." 

"I'll  take  all  the  trouble  that  comes  to 
me  about  you,"  Berse  said.  "I  told  your 
kindred  as  much  and  will  be  as  good  as 
my  word.     You  are  worth  it." 

She  looked  at  him  now.  "I  don't  often 
ask  you  to  do  a  thing  for  me." 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "that  is  true.  I 
wish  you  did." 

"You  won't  let  me  come  with  you  ?" 
She  was  very  insistent.  It  was  plain  to 
Stanvor  that  she  wanted  to  go,  and  why 
she  wanted  to  go.  It  was  plain,  also,  that 
Berse  misunderstood  her.  To  this  last 
question  of  hers  he  shook  his  head.  "That 
can't  be." 

She  turned  away.  "Have  it  as  you  will," 
she  said,  and  went  away  without  another 
word.  He  thought  that  she  would  be 
sulky  with  him  later  on;    but  she  was  not. 


BERSE  GOES   HOME  207 

She  never  opened  her  heart  to  him — that 
was  not  her  way.  Yet  he  felt  that  she 
was  inclined  to  him,  and  said  to  himself 
as  he  went  off  to  sleep:  "This  is  the  best 
of  my  battles — to  have  engaged  with  this 
stormy  heart  and  to  have  quelled  it." 

When  he  was  ready  to  go  and  came  to 
bid  her  farewell,  she  clung  to  him.  That 
touched  him,  and  he  stayed  with  her  for 
a  while. 

"Speak  to  me,  Stangerd,"  he  said. 
"You  are  a  strange  girl  to  be  so  quiet  when 
I  am  such  a  magpie." 

"I  can't  talk,"  she  said;  "but  you 
should  have  let  me  come.     I  had  a  reason." 

"I  knew  that,"  he  answered.  "Come, 
now,  what  was  your  reason?" 

She  wouldn't  tell  him  for  some  time; 
but  at  last  she  said,  "I  could  have  shown 
that  to  Cormac  which  would  have  made 
him  leave  you  alone." 

He  held  her  close.  "My  dear  one,"  he 
said,   "you   make   me  happy.     Now  under- 


208  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

stand  that  I  can  take  care  of  myself  very 
well,  and  that  Cormac  shall  take  no  harm 
from  me."  Then  he  kissed  her,  and  she 
looked  at  him  sadly. 

"You  should  have  taken  me  with  you," 
she  said  again.  "You  will  be  sorry  that 
you  did  not." 

"Why,  so  I  shall,  sweetheart,"  he  said 
with  a  laugh;  "but  I  shall  be  the  merrier 
for  you  when  I  come  back." 

So  he  went  off  to  the  Thing,  without  a 
good-bye  for  Stanvor,  who  watched  him  go 
from  the  window  of  the  Bower. 

The  two  girls  were  very  guarded  with  each 
other  while  Berse  was  away.  They  never 
once  spoke  of  him. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

DOINGS  AT  THE  THING 

PO  the  Thing  at  Thorsness  came  all  the 
West.  When  Berse  came  there  with 
his  friends  he  was  late.  Most  of  the 
booths  were  full,  and  he  could  not  get  his 
proper  place  in  that  of  his  chief,  Anlaf 
Peacock  of  Herdholt.  There  was  a  great 
crowd.  In  the  seat  which  Berse  had  always 
had,  next  to  his  friend  Thord,  there  sat  a 
large  man,  very  broad-shouldered,  covered 
with  a  bear-skin.  Over  his  head  he  had  a 
hood  made  of  the  skin,  which  fell  before 
his  eyes  and  made  a  darkness.  He  had 
a  black  beard  down  to  his  breast.     Between 

his  knees  was  a  long  sword  in  a  grey  sheath 

209 


210  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

of  walrus  hide,  and  both  his  hands  were 
upon  the  hilt  of  it. 

Berse  looked  him  over,  and  puzzled  who 
he  was. 

He  asked  his  neighbour — "Tell  me,  who 
is  our  huge  friend  ?" 

"Some  call  him  Glum,  some  call  him 
Grim.  I  don't  know  what  his  real  name 
is,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  neither  of  those." 

"Well,"  said  Berse,  "we'll  have  it  out 
of  him  presently." 

Men  were  jostling  and  crowding  in  the 
booth,  all  talking  together,  drinking  and 
making  jokes.  Berse  bided  his  time,  and 
presently  trod  heavily  on  the  foot  of  the 
covered  man. 

He  drew  it  in  hastily.  "Steady,  there!" 
he  said. 

Then  Berse  turned  to  look  at  him.  "So 
you  live — some  part  of  you  ?  I  was 
thinking  you  disposed  for  burial,  and  was 
minded  to  pile  stones  over  you." 

"A   cairn   will   be  built,   it   is  very  like," 


DOINGS  AT  THE  THING  211 

said  the  Stranger,  "but  the  dead  man  is 
not  known  who  shall  sit  in  it." 

"Now,"  said  Berse,  "we  will  make  some 
way  towards  knowing  his  name.  You  shall 
tell  us  yours,  to  begin  with,  whether  Scrum, 
or  Glum,  or  Bears'-Paws,  or  whatever  it  may 
be.  And  then  you  shall  tell  us  why  you 
choose  to  sit  in  the  dark." 

The  Stranger  pushed  his  hood  back  and 
showed  his  fierce  face  and  black  beard. 
He  was  very  white-skinned,  but  his  hair 
and  eyes  dark  as  thunder. 

"Stanhere  is  my  name,"  he  said,  "and 
I  am  of  this  country.  I  may  have  money 
of  Cormac's  to  pay  over  to  you,  or  I  may 
not." 

"Oho!  That's  it,  then?"  says  Berse. 
"Cormac  has  been  long  settling  his  accounts. 
I  wonder  that  I  don't  see  him  here." 

"You  will  see  him,"  said  Stanhere,  "but 
not  yet.  Now  I  challenge  you,  Berse,  to 
wager-of-battle  here  at  the  Thing,  and  it 
may  be   that   you  will   get  double   ransom; 


212  A  LOVERS'  TALE 


but     I     think    myself    that    you    will    get 


none." 


Berse  chuckled.  "You  and  your  friends 
are  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me,"  he  said; 
"but  I  have  been  too  bony  for  Cormac  to 
swallow,  and  perhaps  I  may  give  you  a 
stomach-ache  before  I've  done  with  you. 
You  take  a  high  road,  it  seems  to  me. 
Perhaps  you  may  stumble  one  of  these  fine 
days.  One-and-thirty  men  have  tried  to 
stretch  me  out,  you  must  know." 

Stanhere  looked  straight  before  him,  an 
immovable  kind  of  man.  "We  don't 
desire  your  death,"  he  said. 

'Then  what  in  thunder  do  you  desire  V' 
Berse  asked  him. 

"We  desire  to  put  you  in  your  place," 
said  Stanhere. 

"You've  done  that  already,"  Berse  told 
him. 

Afterwards  the  day  of  meeting  was 
appointed,  and  before  it  was  reached 
Cormac  had   come  to  the  Thing.     Nobody 


DOINGS  AT  THE  THING  213 

but  Stanhere  knew  where  he  had  been  or 
what  he  had  been  doing.  He  had  not  been 
at  home  since  his  battle  with  Berse,  but  he 
had  returned  Shavening  to  Skeggi  without 
a  word,  and  then  had  betaken  himself  to 
his  cousin  Stanhere's  house.  There  he  had 
remained  ever  since,  hardly  speaking  or 
moving.  Stanhere,  who  was  a  silent,  heavy, 
slow-moving  man  himself,  saw  nothing  in 
this;  but  it  was  very  unlike  Cormac  to 
be  brooding. 

$  $  $  $  % 

Berse  armed  himself  for  the  battle  in  his 
usual  brisk  manner.  He  had  Whiting,  he 
had  a  target  which  Thorveig  the  spae- 
wife  had  given  him;  he  had  Anlaf  Peacock 
to  hold  his  shield.  He  came  joking  to  the 
Holm,  and  when  he  saw  Cormac  was  to  be 
Stanhere's  shield-bearer,  he  nodded  and 
laughed,  as  if  it  was  all  a  good  joke. 

Scryme  was  the  name  of  Stanhere's  sword, 
and  they  say  of  it  that  it  never  got  rusty. 
The  reason  of  that  may  be  that  it  had  no 


214  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

time;     for    its    master    was    as    frequent    a 
champion  as  Berse. 

Now  Berse,  who  began  the  battle,  cut 
away  two  of  Stanhere's  shields  one  after 
the  other;  but  at  the  third  shield  he  got 
Whiting  jammed  in  the  iron  rim,  and  for  a 
moment  could  npt  get  him  out.  Cormac 
turned  the  shield  sideways  and  jammed 
Whiting  the  faster;  then  Stanhere,  with 
both  hands  to  Scryme,  made  a  huge  cut 
at  Berse,  who  parried  with  his  target — 
Thorveig's  gift.  The  target  was  true,  and 
turned  Scryme,  but  the  force  of  the  blow 
could  not  be  stayed.  Scryme  slid  off  the 
target  and  caught  Berse  upon  the  buttock. 
It  split  the  flesh  from  there  down  the  thigh 
to  the  shin-bone,  and  there  it  stuck.  Berse 
tottered,  but  his  sword  Whiting  was  free. 
He  drove  at  Stanhere  with  all  his  might, 
shore  through  his  shield  and  target  and 
smote  him  on  the  left  breast.  Then  Berse 
fell  forward  on  his  face,  and  his  blood  poured 
from  him. 


DOINGS  AT  THE  THING  215 

They  carried  him  to  the  booth,  and  bound 
up  his  wound.  It  was  an  ugly  gash,  full 
two  feet  long,  and  had  reached  the  bone. 
The  muscles  were  cut  clean  through.  But 
Berse  was  still  full  of  his  jokes.  "Dig  that 
trench  deep  enough,"  he  said,  "and  Cormac 
will  lay  me  in  it  at  the  next  bout."  And 
then  he  sang: 

"  There  was  a  carle  at  Windy-Gate," 

which  is  a  well-known  song;   and  also: 

"  When  on  my  chin  the  young  beard  grew" 

which  is  another. 

And  he  said:  "Steady,  you  there  at 
your  scraping.  I  have  a  handsome  wife 
at  home  who  married  a  man,  not  a  bulrush. 
Leave  the  pith  in  my  leg:  I  have  a  use 
for  it."  But  he  was  very  ill,  and  not  able 
to  be  moved  for  a  week  or  more.  Even 
then  they  had  to  make  a  litter  for  him  and 
carry  him  down  to  the  firth. 

So  it  was  that  Stanvor,  who  was  on  the 
look-out     every     day,     saw    them     carrying 


216  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

him  up.  She  turned  rather  grey,  and 
went  to  find  Stangerd,  who  was  working 
at  a  loom. 

"Stangerd,"  she  said,  "there  are  men 
coming  up  from  the  water." 

Stangerd  looked  at  her.  "Berse  will  be 
coming."  Her  blue  eyes  were  large  and 
bright. 

"Yes,  I  think  Berse  is  there,"  said  Stanvor, 
"or  what  is  left  of  him." 

Stangerd  grew  suddenly  red.  "Is  he  dead  ? 
Is  he  dead?" 

Stanvor  said,  "I  am  sure  that  he  is 
not.  He  is  hurt,  I  believe."  Then  she 
added:  "I  shall  go  to  meet  them.  Or  do 
you  go  ?" 

Stangerd  said,  "I  shall  not  go.  I  knew 
that  this  would  come  of  it.  He  should 
have  taken  me  with  him.     I  will  not  go." 

Then  Stanvor  ran  out  of  the  house  just 
as  she  was  and  down  the  path  to  meet  them. 

Berse  was  in  great  torment,  but  heard 
her    coming    from    a    long    way    off,     and 


DOINGS  AT  THE  THING  217 

listened.  "That's  Slimlegs,"  he  said.  And 
then  he  sighed,  and  turned  away  his  head. 
But  he  had  a  twinkle  for  her  when  she 
came.  No  words  passed  between  them;  but 
Stanvor  walked  beside  the  litter,  with  her 
hand  on  it.  And  so  Berse  was  carried  into 
his  house. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

STANGERD  FREES  HERSELF 

CTANVOR  SLIMLEGS  tended  Berse 
night  and  day,  and  only  slept  when 
he  slept — which  was  not  often,  because 
he  had  fever  and  was  light-headed  with 
it,  and  wandered  in  his  wits.  She  grew 
very  thin  and  looked  more  than  her  age; 
her  eyes  grew  larger  and  lighter,  as  if  they 
would  absorb  danger  from  all  about  before 
it  could  get  at  Berse.  But  she  never  failed, 
and  felt  sure  that  she  was  not  tired.  From 
the  first  Stangerd  had  withdrawn  herself 
and  taken  no  part  in  the  issue  of  the  quarrel 
— though  she  herself  hardly  knew  why. 
Her   first   thought   when   she   heard   of  the 

mishap  was  one  of  anger  against  her  husband. 

218 


STANGERD  FREES   HERSELF  219 

"I  offered  myself  to  save  him  from  this. 
He  would  not  let  me  go  with  him.  On  his 
head  be  it.  I  know  very  well  what  I  can 
do  with  men,  and  what  I  am  worth.  He 
thought  he  knew  better — and  this  is  the  end 
of  it."  So  she  sat  fuming  while  they  were 
bringing  him  in,  and  would  not  go  to  see 
him.  Stanvor  had  come  to  her  to  say  that 
he  was  put  to  bed,  and  that  he  had  asked 
where  she  was.  "Well,"  she  had  replied, 
"and  you  told  him,  I  suppose?"  Yes, 
Stanvor  said,  she  had  told  him.  "And  did 
he  ask  you  to  come  and  fetch  me  ?"  Stangerd 
wanted  to  know.  Stanvor  said  No,  he  did 
not  ask  in  so  many  words.  "Let  him 
ask,  then,"  Stangerd  said.  "He  is  not  slow 
to  seek  what  he  wants." 

Stanvor,  who  was  very  grave,  said  that 
the  wound  was  bitter.  "He  is  slit  from 
the  buttock  to  the  knee.  He  may  limp 
till  his  death-day." 

Stangerd  flamed  and  said,  "He  was 
Battle-Berse   when    he   took    me.     Now  he 


220  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

is  Buttock-Berse.  I  am  wife  to  a  maimed 
man.     Wife  to  Buttock-Berse." 

Stanvor,  looking  scared  and  grave,  left 
her  without  another  word,  and  she  sat  on 
in  the  dusk  by  herself,  twisting  her  white 
fingers  together  in  her  lap.  When  it  was 
dark  she  got  herself  some  supper,  and  made 
a  bed  in  the  Bower,  where  she  slept  ever 
after. 

She  was  left  very  much  to  herself  by  some 
sort  of  common  consent  among  those  of 
the  house  and  Berse's  friends  who  came 
to  see  him.  Stanvor  saw  her  on  and  off 
during  the  days  that  followed,  but  offered 
her  no  news,  and  was  not  asked  for  any. 
But  she  did  hear  from  common  talk  how 
the  fight  had  gone,  and  how  Cormac  had 
taken  some  part  in  it.  She  did  not  praise 
him  for  that.  She  said  to  herself,  "That 
was  not  done  for  love  of  me,  or  to  get  me. 
It  was  done  to  spite  Berse.  Between  them 
these  men  bring  me  to  shame. "  Then  she 
looked   at  herself  a  long  time   in  the  glass. 


STANGERD   FREES   HERSELF  221 

She  observed  the  sheen  of  her  cheek  where 
the  light  caught  the  round  of  it;  she  felt 
her  smooth  throat,  and  drew  her  hair  between 
her  fingers  and  saw  it  like  a  mesh  of 
golden  silk.  She  drew  her  gown  tight  across 
her  bosom,  and  said  to  herself:  "Here 
am  I  even  as  I  am,  jilted  by  a  young  man, 
and  bought  by  an  old  one  who  is  lame  of 
one  leg.  What  does  this  mean  ?  I  was 
taught  to  love  without  my  asking;  I  was 
married  without  my  leave;  and  now  I 
am  to  be  housewife  to  a  limping  dotard 
just  when  my  beauty  is  ripe.  Here's  a 
pretty  end  to  Cormac's  songs;  here's  a 
good  use  to  make  of  the  girdle  of  Fricka." 
But  she  did  not  yet  know  what  she  could 
do.  She  was  resolved  that  she  would  not 
stay  with  Berse,  and  clear  that  she  could 
not  call  Cormac  to  her.  If  he  came  of  his 
own  will  she  might  take  him;  but  she  would 
want  more  wooing.  Her  heart  was  cool; 
he  must  chafe  it  till  it  was  hot  again. 
Sometimes   she   thought   of  calling   Cormac 


222  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

in  to  help  her;  sometimes  she  turned  to 
her  brother  Toothgnasher.  Finally  she 
decided  that  she  would  go  by  herself  as  the 
law  allowed  her.  There  was  one  thing 
against  it.  If  she  went  she  would  leave 
Stanvor  alone  with  Berse,  who  almost 
certainly  would  make  her  his  third  wife. 
Now  she  told  herself  that  it  was  no  concern 
of  hers  what  became  of  either  of  the  pair. 
She  had  no  quarrel  with  Stanvor,  whom 
she  despised;  but  she  felt  that  she  might 
be  affected  by  it  if  they  came  together, 
and  did  not  wish  to  be  affected  by  a  girl 
of  whom  she  had  so  light  an  opinion.  She 
wished,  on  the  whole,  to  go  on  despising 
Stanvor.  But  you  cannot  despise  a  person 
who  makes  you  uneasy  in  your  mind. 

One  day — it  was  towards  evening — she 
stopped  Stanvor  as  she  was  carrying  a  warm 
drink  to  Berse. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  said, 
though  she  knew  quite  well. 

Stanvor    looked    at    her    quietly,    without 


STANGERD  FREES  HERSELF  223 

a  flicker  in  her  light  blue  eyes.  "I  am 
going  to  take  him  this,"  she  said,  "and 
then  he  will  sleep." 

Stangerd  grew  angry.  "Him!'  she  said. 
"He!  You  talk  strangely,  my  girl.  One 
might  think  you  talked  of  your  husband 
or  lover,  to  hear  you." 

"No  one  would  think  so  who  knows  us," 
Stanvor  said.     "You  at  least  know  better." 

"Do  I  know  that  he  is  not  your  lover, 
that  old  man  ?" 

Yes,  you  know  that." 
I    know    that    I    found    you   here   when 
I   was  brought.     You  have  been  here  ever 
since.      If   I    am   to   share   a   husband   with 
you,  let  him  be  a  whole  one,  not  a  fragment." 

Stanvor  said  now:  "Forgive  me  if  I  leave 
you.  This  gruel  will  get  cold,  and  then  he 
will  make  a  grimace  and  refuse  it.  I  will 
take  it  to  him,  and  then  come  back  and 
listen  to  you."     With  that  she  went  away. 


tt 


44 
4  t 


224  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

When  she  came  back  she  found  Stangerd 
in  a  cold  rage.  She  stood  quietly  before 
her  with  unfaltering  eyes.  Stangerd  looked 
all  ways  but  hers,  then  broke  out: 

"What  are  you  here  for?  Why  are  you 
here?" 

I  thought  that  you  had  more  to  say." 
No,   no;    there  is  nothing  more  to  say. 
You  know  all  that  is  in  my  heart." 

"If  I  knew  that,"  said  Stanvor,  "I 
should  know  more  than  you  do." 

"If  I  knew  what  was  in  your  heart, 
mY  girV  Stangerd  cried,  "I  should  kill 
you." 

"No,  indeed  you  would  not,"  said 
Stanvor.  "You  would  be  sorry  for  me." 
With  that  she  went  about  her  business. 

She  lay  on  the  floor  below  Berse's  bed, 
having  covered  herself  with  a  bearskin. 
She  was  awake,  and  listened  to  him  grum- 
bling and  muttering  to  himself. 

"There's  no  sense  in  it,"  said  Berse. 
"I'm   an   old   fool   for  my   pains.     A  great, 


STANGERD   FREES   HERSELF  225 

splendid,  sizable  girl  beside  a  handy,  vigorous 
man — and  a  dead  fire  between  them,  cold 
ashes."  Then  he  stopped  for  a  while,  but 
grunted  as  his  pains  shot  in  him.  "A 
pretty  child,  a  pretty  girl,"  he  went  on. 
"All  that  the  heart  of  a  man  could  desire 
— mine  at  a  nod.  But  the  other  touches 
my  pride.  I've  always  had  what  I  wanted." 
Then  he  dropped  off  to  sleep,  but  Stanvor 
lay  with  her  eyes  wide  open,  staring  into 
the  dark  corners.  She  was  very  excited. 
Her  heart  was  beating  fast.  But  she  was 
so  guarded  that  not  even  to  herself  would 
she  voice  that  which  made  her  blood  race 
in  her.  And  she  would  do  nothing  one 
way  or  the  other. 

As  the  days  wore  on  she  knew  that 
Stangerd  was  busy  about  something. 
Stangerd  used  to  go  out  by  herself,  and  was 
away  for  a  good  many  hours  of  the  day. 
One  of  the  house-carles  said  that  she  had 
been  seen  down  by  the  firth  talking  to 
Thorveig    the    spae-wife.      Berse    had    given 


226  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

up  asking  about  her.  He  was  getting 
better,  and  had  begun  to  take  notice  of 
Stanvor.  One  day  he  said  to  her,  "You 
ought  to  be  married,  sweetheart." 

Stanvor's  heart  stood  still,  but  she  re- 
covered herself.  "Get  well  again,  and  we 
can  think  about  it." 

"That  I  will,"  said  Berse.  "He'll  be  a 
lucky  fellow  that  gets  you." 

She  turned  away  her  head. 

Then  came  the  day  when  he  could  get 
about  the  house.  He  came  hobbling  out 
into  the  sun,  leaning  upon  a  stick  and 
Stanvor's  shoulder.  They  came  full  upon 
Stangerd,  who  was  sunning  herself  in  the 
court.  There  were  house-carles  at  work  in 
the  outhouses.  Stangerd  clapped  her  hands 
together,  and  when  they  looked  up,  she 
called  to  them  to  come  to  her.  Berse  all 
this  time  was  shaking  on  his  stick,  watching 
her,  twitching  his  eyebrows. 

When  the  men  were  standing  about, 
Stangerd,     whose    colour    was     like     flame, 


STANGERD  FREES   HERSELF  227 

swept  Berse  into  her  talk  with  a  stretched- 
out  arm.  "Take  notice,  all  of  you,  and 
bear  me  witness,"  she  said,  "that  I,  Stan- 
gerd,  Thorkel's  daughter,  separate  myself 
from  this  half-man.  He  was  called  Battle- 
Berse  when  I  took  him;  but  now  he  is 
Buttock-Berse,  and  I  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  a  blemished  man.  I  separate 
myself  from  him,  and  claim  my  liberty 
and  my  goods.  That  is  all  I  have  to 
say. 

"Mistress,"  said  Berse,  who  was  very 
still,  leaning  on  his  two  sticks,  "you  have 
said  enough.  Less  would  have  served  your 
turn."  Then  he  turned  and  left  her,  hobbling 
along  the  flags  in  the  sun  with  Stanvor 
walking  beside  him.  Stanvor  held  herself 
as  stiffly  as  a  young  birch-tree.  Not  a  word 
upon  the  scene  passed  between  them:  Berse 
talked  gently  and  quietly,  and  Stanvor 
helped  him  all  she  could. 


<<  T> 


228  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

That  same  day  Stangerd  left  him  and 
rode  down  to  the  water.  She  went  home 
to  her  own  people.  Berse  made  no  effort 
to  stop  her,  and  when  she  was  gone  he 
called  Stanvor  to  him  and  took  her  in  his 
arms.     She  came  readily. 

"It's  you  and  me  now,  sweetheart,"  he 
said. 

I'm  ready,"  she  said. 

Do  you  mean  that?"  said  Berse,  holding 
her  close.     "Have  you  no  pride?" 

"I  have  a  great  deal,"  she  said.  "But 
I  gave  it  to  you  long  ago." 

Berse  kissed  her,  but  immediately  put 
her  down. 

"If  I  have  your  pride  to  keep,  I'll  use 
it  to  the  best  advantage.  You  and  I  will 
keep  our  distance  of  each  other  for  a  while 
longer.  We  must  see  what  that  termagant 
does  next.  She  is  a  fine  woman — I  never 
saw  a  finer — but  some  fiend  is  in  her.  Let 
him  take  her.     She  is  nothing  to  me  now." 

"She  is  beautiful,"  Stanvor  said. 


a 


STANGERD   FREES   HERSELF  229 

Berse  regarded  her.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "so 
she  is — as  a  field  of  corn  full  of  red  poppy 
is  a  goodly  sight.  But  there's  the  less  corn, 
there's  the  less  nourishment  for  the  husband- 
man. Now  in  your  little  slim  body,  in  your 
kitten  face  and  great  blue  eyes  there  may 
be  the  joy  of  a  man's  days  and  nights.  Wait 
till  I  can  get  about  again,  and  we'll  see  what 
can  be  done." 

Stanvor  said,  "I  am  yours  when  you 
want  me.     I  have  always  been  that." 

Things  went  quietly  for  a  few  days;  but 
Stanvor  was  aware  that  Berse  often  looked 
at  her  when  he  thought  she  did  not  know 
anything  about  it.  She  smiled  to  herself 
and  kept  a  good  heart.  By  and  by,  before 
the  winter  had  come,  and  no  tidings  yet 
from  Stangerd's  kin,  Berse  stopped  in  front 
of  Stanvor  and  said,  "I  am  minded  to 
take  a  child  in  fostership.  It  will  be  good 
for  you,  and  the  money  will  be  kept  for 
you  when  you  want  it.  What  do  you  say 
to  this,  sweetheart  ?" 


230  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Stanvor  said,  "I  say  what  you  say. 
What  child  have  you  in  mind  ?" 

"I  shall  take  Anlaf  Hoskil's  son  Haldor," 
said  Berse.  "A  good,  strong  boy,  more 
than  twelve  years  old.  He  shall  be  in  your 
fostership  and  sleep  in  your  bed." 

Stanvor  said,  "Very  well;  I'll  do  my 
best  with  him." 


* 


So  that  was  done.  Haldor  was  a  bold 
lad,  saucy,  and  forward  for  his  age.  Stanvor 
got  very  fond  of  him,  and  he  of  her.  He 
learned  of  her  to  consider  Berse  the  greatest 
paragon  in  Iceland.  Berse,  except  for  a 
slight  limp,  was  now  as  well  as  ever  he  had 
been,  and  amused  himself  that  winter  by 
teaching  Haldor  how  to  exercise  himself. 
He  showed  him  the  use  of  the  sword,  the 
bill,  the  axe,  and  the  spear;  he  gave  him 
horses  to  ride,  and  made  him  swim  in  the 
river  every  day.     Haldor  was  a  rough  boy 


STANGERD  FREES   HERSELF  231 

when  he  came,  but  this  sort  of  work  made 
him  as  fierce  as  a  young  man.  Stanvor 
used  to  talk  to  him  every  night  about  Berse's 
gentleness  and  good  temper.  Between  them 
they  were  in  a  fair  way  to  make  a  man  of 
Haldor. 


CHAPTER   XX 

TOOTHGNASHER 

^^OW  in  the  Spring  Thorkel  Toothgnasher, 
who  was  Stangerd's  brother,  came  up 
to  Sowerby  and  asked  for  Berse.  He 
had  a  man  called  Wale  with  him,  a  red- 
haired,  broken-nosed  man  with  a  very  shiny 
face.  Stanvor  saw  them,  and  said  that 
Berse  was  from  home.  They  said  that  they 
would  wait,  and  sat  down  in  the  hall. 
Stanvor  served  them  with  drink,  and  Tooth- 
gnasher, before  his  draught,  looked  at  her 
over  the  rim  of  the  horn. 

"You    had    something    to    do    with    my 
sister's  flitting,  little  mistress,  I  think." 

"Nothing  that  I  know  of,"  said  Stanvor. 

232 


a 
it' 


TOOTHGNASHER  233 

"She    told    Berse    why    she    was    going.      I 
heard  her." 

"Did  she  not  tell  you  another  reason?" 
No,"  said  Stanvor. 

What !      Was    she    not    jealous    of   you 
for  ever  about  her  husband  ?" 

Stanvor  said,  "She  could  have  tended 
him  herself  if  she  had  cared.  Then  I  should 
have  kept  away.  I  never  did  anything 
that  she  offered  to  do.  She  will  never  tell 
you  that  she  was  jealous  of  me." 

Toothgnasher  said,  "Well,  it's  strange 
if  a  man  don't  know  his  sister's  mind." 

"It  is  strange,"  Stanvor  agreed;  "but 
it  seems  to  be  your  case." 

Toothgnasher  had  no  more  to  say.  Then 
Wale,  having  drained  his  horn,  said 
slyly:  "Old  Berse  likes  pretty  girls  about 
him." 

"Ah,"  said  Toothgnasher,  taking  him  up, 
"a  man  must  pay  for  his  pleasures." 

Haldor  was  listening  to  all  this,  sitting 
by  the  fire,  nursing  his  foot.     He  frowned. 


234  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"Do  you  think  he  would  pay  such  as  you 
two  are  ?"  he  said. 
Wale    started.      "How    now,    you    little 

egg?" 

"You  will  see,"  said  Haldor.  "My 
foster-father  will  make  short  work  with 
you." 

"Oh,  be  done!"  said  Toothgnasher,  and 
turned  again  to  Stanvor.  "You,  mistress," 
he  said,  "were  an  inmate  of  Thorarin's 
house  once  upon  a  time?" 

"Yes,"  said  Stanvor,  "very  much  against 
my  will." 

"Thorarin  paid  Berse  for  that,"  said 
Wale.     "He  did  so." 

Stanvor  answered  quietly,  "Yes,  he  paid 
with  his  life,  and  the  life  of  his  sons." 

"And  now  it  is  Berse's  turn  to  pay," 
said  Toothgnasher,  very  red. 

Just  then  Berse  came  in  and  greeted  the 
strangers  civilly. 

Toothgnasher  at  once  opened  his  affair. 
He   desired   the   bride-price    and    the   dowry 


TOOTHGNASHER  235 

of  Stangerd,  who  had  declared  that  she 
would  not  be  the  wife  of  a  maimed  man. 
Berse  sat  and  twiddled  his  thumbs,  while 
Stanvor,  kneeling,  took  his  boots  off. 

"I  don't  pay,"  said  Berse.  "I'm  as  well 
as  ever  I  was  in  my  life,  and  could  marry 
a  dozen  like  Stangerd  if  I  had  a  mind. 
But  I  have  not.  I'm  as  pleased  as  daylight 
that  she  has  taken  herself  off;  but  I  won't 
pay,  and  that's  flat." 

"It  is  much  too  flat  for  us,"  said  Tooth- 
gnasher.  "You  shall  fight  me  for  that, 
Berse." 

"So  I  will,"  says  Berse. 

Toothgnasher  got  up.  "Wager-of-battle 
at  the  holm  by  Tiltness  it  shall  be." 

"So  it  shall,  then,"  Berse  said.  "You'll 
be  making  little  of  me,  I  daresay,  such  a 
stout  man  as  you  be  grown;  but  I  shall  be 
there  for  you." 

Then  Wale  had  something  to  say.  His 
eyes  were  bright,  but  he  was  rather  short 
of   breath.      "If   I    were    to    come    to    you, 


236  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Berse,  with  money  in  my  hand,  and  ask  for 
that  young  girl  in  marriage,  what  would 
you  say  to  me  ?" 

Berse,  twinkling,  looked  about  for  Stanvor. 
She  stood  in  the  shadow,  but  he  saw  her 
steady  eyes,  very  watchful.  He  smiled  and 
nodded  to  her. 

"I  should  say  that  you  were  too  late  in 
the  day,"  he  told  Wale.  Everybody  was 
tense  and  quiet.  Everybody  spoke  shortly, 
and  those  who  did  not  speak  held  themselves 
in  waiting  for  something. 

"I  don't  care  much  for  that  answer," 
Wale  said. 

"It's  all  you  will  get  from  me,"  says 
Berse;  "but  you  may  ask  her,  if  you 
please." 

Wale  said  that  he  should  ask  her.  "And 
I'll  ask  Ord,  her  injured  parent,"  he  said, 
growing  angry.  "You  reckoned  to  do  him 
a  service  when  you  took  her  out  of  Gutdale 
and  gave  Thorarin  his  death-blow — but  what 
have     you     done  ?       You     have     turned     a 


TOOTHGNASHER  237 

pretty  girl   into   a   byword   with   your  snug 


vices. 


Stanvor  said,  "You  lie.  He  has  been 
more  than  good  to  me." 

Berse  said,  "Get  you  gone,  the  pair  of 
you,  and  do  your  worst." 

"By  my  head,"  Toothgnasher  said,  "I'll 
get  me  gone,  as  you  say,  but  I'll  do  my 
worst  beforehand." 

With  that  he  reached  back  for  his  bill 
and  hewed  at  Berse.  Haldor  slipped  into 
the  fray  with  Whiting,  and  saved  Berse's 
life.  He  cut  in  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
and  knocked  the  bill  sideways.  Then  he 
handed  Berse  the  sword,  and  Berse  in  his 
stocking  feet  engaged  with  Toothgnasher. 
Haldor  took  down  a  spear  from  the  wall, 
and  stood  leaning  on  it  to  watch  the  fight. 
It  was  long  and  arduous.  Toothgnasher  had 
a  great  reach  and  was  very  active.  Berse 
could  not  get  in  at  him  at  all. 

Stanvor  stood  where  she  was,  in  the 
shadow   of  the   great   hearth,    and   was    so 


238  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

intent  upon  the  battle  that  she  did  not  see 
what  Wale  was  about.  He  had  got  behind 
her  to  the  door  which  led  to  the  Bower, 
and  suddenly  threw  his  cloak  over  her  head 
and  drew  it  across  her  mouth  so  that  she  could 
not  cry  out.  Holding  that  fast  in  one  hand, 
he  put  the  other  about  her  body,  lifted  her 
and  turned  to  take  her  out  by  the  back  door. 

Haldor  saw  him  and  went  after  him. 
He  caught  him  just  by  the  door  and  drove 
his  spear  into  the  middle  of  his  back.  That 
was  his  death-blow;  he  fell  forward  on  to 
the  top  of  Stanvor,  and  there  he  lay.  She 
lay  quiet,  too,  until  Haldor  got  the  cloak 
off  her  head.  Then  the  two  of  them  went 
back  to  see  what  was  being  done.  They 
found  Berse  wiping  the  blade  of  Whiting. 

"Hot  and  dirty  work,"  said  Berse;  "but 
there  lies  Toothgnasher." 

Haldor  said,  "Foster-father,  I  have  killed 
a  man.     I  have  killed  Wale." 

"Have  you  so?"  said  Berse.  "What 
did  you  do  that  for?" 


TOOTHGNASHER  239 

Haldor  told  him.  Then  said  Berse,  'You 
have  done  well,  my  lad.  Now  get  we  these 
two  without  the  house;  and  then  we'll 
have  supper,  and  then  we'll  go  to  bed."  So 
they  dragged  out  of  doors  Toothgnasher 
and  Wale  and  covered  them  decently  with 
a  cloth. 

When  they  came  back  they  found  that 
Stanvor  and  the  women  had  set  the  table. 
They  had  supper,  and  Stanvor  waited  upon 
Berse  as  she  had  always  done. 

But  towards  the  end,  Berse,  who  had  said 
nothing,  told  Stanvor  to  fetch  another  jug 
of  mead.  When  she  brought  it  and  had 
filled  his  horn,  he  held  it  up  and  said  to 
her,  "Drink  of  it,  sweetheart." 

"Why  should  I  drink?"  she  asked  him, 
smiling  shyly. 

"Drink  to  the  night,"  said  Berse.  So 
she  put  her  lips  to  the  horn,  and  gave  it  back 
to  him.     Berse  drained  it. 

He  said  no  more,  but  sent  Haldor  to  bed, 
and   sat   by   the   fire,    knitting   and   clearing 


240  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

his  brows.  Stanvor  was  at  work  upon 
embroidery  on  the  other  side  of  the  hearth. 
When  the  time  came,  she  put  the  work 
away  in  its  place,  and  came  to  Berse  to  say 
good-night.  He  put  his  arm  round  her, 
and  kept  her  there. 

Presently  he  said,  "Two  wives  have  I 
had,  and  intend  for  a  third.  What  do  you 
say  to  that,  sweetheart?" 

"I  say  what  you  say,"  she  replied,  looking 
down  at  him;  for  he  sat  in  his  chair  while 
she  stood  over  him. 

"My  first  wife  was  very  well.  They 
called  her  a  paragon,  but  I  don't  know. 
We  fell  out  now  and  then  about  trifles.  She 
had  a  quick  temper,  and  was  very  par- 
ticular. Myself,  I'm  a  careless  sort  of  man, 
always  in  scrapes.  She  could  not  bear  that. 
She  liked  the  same  things  to  take  place  at 
the  same  hour  every  day.  Now,  they  never 
did  with  me,  and  never  will.  However,  we 
made  a  shift  to  get  on.  Then  there  was 
Stangerd.     I  don't  know  what  had  warped 


TOOTHGNASHER  241 

her;  but  I  was  a  fool  to  be  talked  over. 
Ah,  and  a  fool  to  be  taken  by  her  good 
looks  when  I  had  a  better  beside  me.  But 
when  I  told  you  I  was  going  to  take  her, 
what  did  you  say?  You  said:  'Well  and 
good,  master.'    Now  why  did  you  say  that  ?' 

She  still  smiled,  tolerantly  and  wisely, 
and  still  looked  down  kindly  at  him. 
"Because  you  must  always  do  as  you  like," 
she  said. 

"And  so  I  will,"  he  said,  "and  you  shall 
marry  me,  sweetheart,  when  you  will." 

"I  will  marry  you  now,"  she  said.  He 
got  up  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  She  stood 
on  tiptoe  and  raised  him  her  face.  He 
kissed  her  long,  and  feeling  her  fierce  young 
body  against  his,  he  laughed  for  joy,  and 
said:  "All's  well  that  ends  well.  Come, 
sweetheart,  I'm  not  too  old  to  teach  you 
the  way  of  marriage." 

She  said,  "You'll  teach  me  little,  Berse." 

Berse  said,  "We'll  see." 

In  the  morning   Haldor  asked  her  where 


242  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

she  had  been  all  night.  She  smiled  with 
her  eyes,  and  kissed  him.  "I  was  at  a 
wedding,"  she  said. 

"Whose  wedding  was  that?"  asked 
Haldor. 

She  kissed  him  again;  and  then  he  under- 
stood, and  kissed  her. 

The  tale  has  no  more  to  say  of  Battle- 
Berse. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THORWALD  THE  TINSMITH 

^JOW  back  wt  go  to  Tongue  on  Midfirth 
to  see  what  was  going  on  there. 
StangercTs  father  was  not  overjoyed  to  have 
her  back  again  at  home,  but  he  said  that 
she  had  been  very  right  to  leave  Sowerby 
and  a  husband  who  put  her  to  ridicule. 
He  was  sanguine,  too,  that  she  would  get 
her  property  back  either  by  a  pleading  at 
the  Thing  or  by  Berse's  sense  of  justice; 
but  his  son  Toothgnasher  thought  differently, 
and  as  the  season  wore  away,  it  seemed 
that  Toothgnasher  was  right.  Then  came 
the  battle  in  Berse's  house,  and  the  end  of 
Toothgnasher  and  Wale.    Thorkel  took  that 

hardly,  and  showed  Stangerd  by  his  dealing 

243 


244  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

that  he  put  some  of  the  blame  upon  her. 
He  now  talked  of  ransom  and  the  need 
of  a  champion  to  take  up  his  quarrel.  He 
talked  more  than  once  of  Cormac  as  of  the 
right  man  in  the  right  place,  as  the  natural 
champion  of  his  family,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  Stangerd  said  nothing,  but  remained 
handsome,  silent,  and  self-possessed  as  she 
had  always  been.  Yet  there's  no  doubt  but 
she  expected  Cormac  to  come,  and  looked 
for  him  every  day. 

But  he  did  not  come,  though  he  was  known 
to  be  at  home  and  at  work  about  his  house 
and  fields.  Narve  had  seen  him,  and  had 
even  hailed  him  from  afar  off;  but  as  Cormac 
made  no  sign  of  access,  the  timid  man  had 
not  cared  to  pass  the  time  of  day  with 
him,  or  to  slip  in  the  news  which  was  so 
much  in  Thorkel's  mouth  just  now. 

But  it  must  needs  be  that  Cormac  knew  of 
her  return:  in  fact,  he  did  know  it,  for  his 
brother  had  told  him.  He  took  the  news 
quietly;    he   was   fallen   very   glum   of  late, 


THORWALD  THE  TINSMITH  245 

and  made  no  more  poetry.  He  went  on 
with  his  work  as  if  there  was  no  such  person 
as  Stangerd  in  the  world — and  then  he 
began  to  get  restless  again,  and  irritable. 
He  lost  his  temper  with  things  (not  with 
persons),  and  could  not  stay  long  at  one 
job.  Then,  in  the  late  summer,  suddenly,  he 
told  his  brother  that  he  thought  of  going 
to  sea.  He  said  that  there  was  a  ship  in 
the  firth  to  be  had  at  a  moderate  figure.  He 
would  get  some  stuff  together,  and  a  crew, 
and  go  off  trading  to  Norway.  Maybe  they 
could  do  some  raiding:  he  wouldn't  say, 
but  they  might  go  to  Ireland. 

Thorgils  said  that  he  would  go  too,  and 
as  soon  as  the  gear  could  be  got  on  board 
and  the  men  found;  but  nothing  much 
was  done  until  the  early  winter.  Not  a  word, 
so  far,  of  Stangerd — not  a  word ! 

$  $  7f  *  # 

But  by  this  time  news  had  come  to 
Midfirth  that  Berse  had  married  Stanvor 
Slimlegs,     and     had     made     himself     very 


246  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

comfortable,  being  perfectly  recovered  of 
his  slit  buttock.  He  had  fortified  his  house 
with  a  great  wall  of  stone  and  turf,  and  it 
was  thought  that  Stanvor  was  going  to 
give  him  a  son.  Thorkel  was  in  a  fine  way 
over  these  tales,  and  went  about  saying 
that  he  had  fallen  on  evil  days  and  that 
Iceland  was  no  longer  the  home  for  free 
men  or  honest  men.  If  a  man  could  turn 
his  wife  out  of  the  house  at  a  moment's 
notice,  kill  her  brother  and  take  a  new  wife, 
and  no  call  to  be  made  upon  him — what 
were  we  coming  to  ?  Narve's  teeth  chattered, 
and  he  said  it  was  very  dreadful. 

The  upshot  was  that  Thorold  Tinsmith 
came  into  the  story:  a  well-to-do  man  of 
large  presence  and  a  comely,  fair  beard, 
which  lay  upon  his  chest  like  a  force  of  water. 
He  was  always  fondling  it,  and  had  a  trick 
of  squeezing  it  up  in  his  hand  so  that  he 
could  make  a  brush  of  the  end  of  it,  and 
brush  his  nose  with  it.  He  had  flat,  light 
blue    eyes,    and    spoke    slowly    and    gravely. 


THORWALD  THE  TINSMITH  247 

A  rich  man,  one  of  the  Skiddings  of  Fleet, 
a  widower  without  children,  an  excellent 
tinsmith.  After  a  great  deal  of  debating 
with  his  brother  Thorvard  and  his  neigh- 
bours, he  took  boat  and  sailed  into 
Midfirth. 

He  stayed  the  night  on  board,  and  rode 
up  next  day,  with  his  brother  and  a  couple 
more  witnesses  and  tokeners,  to  see  Thorkel. 
The  day  was  spent  in  talking.  He  saw 
nothing  of  Stangerd  till  the  evening  meal, 
when  she  came  out  in  white — just  as  she 
had  been  when  Cormac  first  set  eyes  upon 
her — and  served  the  table.  She  was,  maybe, 
more  matronly  than  she  had  been  then. 
Experience  had  made  her  more  sedate. 
There  was  no  spying  through  Hagbard's 
eyes,  no  tip-toe  work  behind  the  hangings: 
but  then  there  was  no  seer  to  view  her  feet 
and  no  singer  to  cry  upon  her  starry  beauty. 
The  grave,  portly  tinsmith  hardly  looked  at 
her;  and  when  she  had  gone  to  bed,  and 
the    men    drew    closer    together    to    bicker 


248  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

the  thing  to  an  end,  and  Thorkel  began 
to  vaunt  her  as  a  wonder  of  the  world, 
Thorwald  roundly  said  that  one  wife  was  as 
good  as  another  to  him,  so  far  as  her  looks 
went.  A  wife,  he  said,  should  be  well  found 
in  money  and  other  movables,  a  good 
breeder,  and  handy  in  the  house.  She  must 
have  a  pleasant  nature  and  not  be  always 
asking  the  reason  of  things.  It  might  easily 
happen,  he  said,  that  a  man  did  not  know, 
or  have  at  call,  the  reason  for  something 
said  or  done,  or  required  to  be  done.  He 
did  not  care — nor  was  it  convenient — that 
he  should  have  to  own  up  to  ignorance.  It 
made  him  look  foolish;  moreover,  it  might 
lead  to  debate,  and  bring  endless  confusion 
in  the  household.  For  everything  he  said 
he  appealed  to  his  brother  Thorvard  for 
confirmation.  Thorvard  confirmed  him  every 
time;  and  the  end  of  it  was  that  they  were 
too  many  for  Thorkel,  who  found  himself 
asking  them  to  take  Stangerd  off  his  hands, 
offering  to  make  good   the  gear  which   she 


THORWALD  THE  TINSMITH  249 

had  left  behind  her  at  Sowerby,  and  to  add 
more  to  it.  With  these  terms  the  tinsmith 
was  content,  and  said  that  he  would  talk 
to  Stangerd  next  day. 

When  her  father  told  her  what  was  forward, 
she  gloomed  and  said  nothing  for  a  time, 
neither  assenting  nor  refusing.  Presently 
she  began  to  breathe  quickly,  as  if  thought 
troubled  her  breast.  And  then  she  said: 
"It  is  a  strange  thing  to  me  that  I  am  so 
unhappy  in  my  dealings  with  men.  See 
that  little  pale  slip  of  a  thing,  Stanvor: 
she  has  been  made  happy  with  what  I 
despised.  See  Cormac,  who  loved  me  first 
— what  have  I  done — what  did  I  do — 
that  he  should  treat  me  so  ?  It  seems 
to  me  that  a  girl's  good  looks  are  her 
bad  fortune.  I  wish  I  had  never  been 
born." 

Thorkel  had  little  comfort  for  her. 
"Thorwald,"  he  told  her,  "thinks  nothing 
of  your  looks.  He  is  a  peaceful  man  who 
wants  to  be  quiet.     If  you  let  him  alone, 


250  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

he  will  let  you  alone.  What  more  do 
you  want  ?" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  let  alone  by  the  man 
I  marry,"  she  said.  "I  don't  marry  to  be 
let  alone." 

"Then  you  ought  to  have  married  Cormac," 
Thorkel  told  her.  There  was  more;  but 
in  the  end  she  dried  her  eyes  and  consented 
to  see  the  tinsmith. 


* 


Thorwald  stroked  his  fine  beard  as  he 
looked  at  her  the  next  day.  She  stood  up 
before  him,  but  he  did  not  at  first  think  it 
necessary  to  rise  from  the  bench. 

"So,  Stangerd,  it  seems  you  are  inclined 
to  try  again,"  he  said.  "Well,  I  am  not 
one  who  says  that  a  woman  is  the  worse  for 
experience.  Far  from  it.  Now,  let  me  speak 
to  you  of  myself,  for  I  would  not  have  you 
say  afterwards  that  I  had  deceived  you,  or 
hear  you  tell  me  that  you  separate  yourself 


THORWALD  THE  TINSMITH  251 

from  me  on  that  account.  I  am  a  well-to- 
do  man  of  quiet  and  ruminating  temper. 
I  do  not  jump  at  a  thing.  I  like  to  turn 
it  over  and  about.  You  must  not  expect 
me  to  be  always  fondling  and  kissing.  I 
have  many  irons  in  the  fire,  and  when  my 
mind  is  occupied,  I  expect  to  be  let  alone. 
All  in  good  time,  and  a  time  for  every- 
thing is  my  favourite  saying.  I  have  turned 
off  many  a  trouble  by  the  use  of  that  lore. 
I  have  a  good  house,  and  many  people  about 
it,  one  way  and  another.  You  will  have 
half  a  dozen  women  to  oversee,  and  there 
are  house-carles  and  labourers  and  shepherds. 
It  is  well  stored,  and  I  choose  to  have  a 
generous  table;  yet  I  love  thrift  and  detest 
wastefulness.  My  brother  Thorvard  lives 
with  us.  He  will  please  you:  he  can  be 
very  merry  at  times,  and  sings  a  good  song. 
So  do  I,  for  that  matter,  but  I  don't  profess 
to  be  a  skald.  I  hope  we  shall  be  very 
happy  together,  and  don't  doubt  of  it  if 
you    remember   that    I    am    a    serious    man 


252  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

who  has  no  time  for  trifling  or  outbreaks  of 
temper." 

Then  he  got  up  and,  putting  one  hand 
upon  her  shoulder,  put  the  other  under  her 
chin.  Lifting  her  face,  he  looked  kindly 
into  her  beautiful  stormy  eyes,  and  then 
kissed  her. 

Stangerd  had  never  been  wooed  after 
this  sort,  and  her  heart  was  like  lead  within 
her.  She  had,  indeed,  no  heart  wherewith 
to  fling  away  from  such  a  suitor;  but  she 
was  very  near  to  tears.  She  was  as  lovely 
as  ever  she  had  been,  and  yet  the  light 
seemed  to  have  left  her,  so  that  she  was 
anybody's  for  the  picking  up.  But  she  had 
lost  her  spirit.  Cormac,  perhaps,  had  got 
that:  she  didn't  know,  and  didn't  care. 
She  allowed  her  lips  to  the  tinsmith;  she 
faltered  that  she  would  do  her  best;  and 
then  she  went  away. 

Within  a  short  time  she  was  married  to 
him,  and  knew  the  best  and  worst  of  him. 
He,  for  his  part,  might  as  well  have  married 


THORWALD  THE  TINSMITH  253 

a  block  of  wood;    but  he  neither  knew  nor 
cared  what  she  was  made  of. 

They  were  married  at  ThorkePs  house, 
and  there  they  stayed  for  the  mid-winter 
season.  Then,  suddenly,  one  day,  Cormac 
came  to  the  house  and  saw  her  again. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

CORMAC  COMES   BACK 

CHE  hadn't  seen  him  since  the  day  of 
her  first  bridal,  the  day  when  Berse 
brought  her  home  into  Sowerby.  They  had 
parted  in  unkindness,  and  it  seems  that 
they  were  to  meet  so;  for  her  first  feeling 
in  her  discontent  was  of  hot  rage  against 
him  as  the  maker  of  it.  Her  eyes  were 
angry,  and  her  cheek-bones  were  angry;  she 
sat  where  she  was  by  the  fire  with  her 
needlework  still  in  her  lap,  and  watched 
him,  waiting  for  him  to  speak. 

Cormac,  also,  at  first  said  nothing  to  her. 
He  stood  framed  in  the  doorway,  wryly 
smiling,    frowning   with    one    eyebrow.      He 

254 


CORMAC  COMES   BACK  255 

considered  her  as  a  painter  considers  his 
unfinished  work,  whistling  in  his  teeth  as 
he  wonders  where  he  shall  begin.  Words 
and  phrases  sang  and  danced  in  his  head, 
as  he  absorbed  her  again.  Then  he  said, 
"Stangerd,  you  are  like  a  morning  in  April, 
when  the  sun  is  breaking  through  the  rain, 
and  thinning  it  into  mist.  If  I  could  stand 
always  at  this  distance  from  you,  Stangerd, 
and  look  at  you  like  this,  I  should  make 
songs  which  would  be  the  music  of  all  Iceland. 
But  I  can't,  and  you  know  that  I  can't,  keep 
so  far  from  you  now,  after  what  has  been 
between  you  and  me;  and  so  I  am  going 
away  from  you,  my  golden  wonder,  and 
will  put  the  blue  water  between  us.  What 
do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

He  spoke  lightly  and  mockingly,  or  so 
she  felt  it.  She  governed  herself  therefore, 
so  that  he  should  never  guess  that  she  was 
unhappy.  She  picked  up  her  needlework 
and  took  a  stitch  or  two,  as  she  said,  "You 
will  do  as  you  please,  I  suppose.     It  is  what 


256  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

you  have  always  done.  When  will  you 
sail?" 

"Not  yet,  not  yet,"  he  said.  Then  he 
came  into  the  hall  and  stood  near  her,  right 
over  her.  "So  you  tired  of  Berse,  and 
have  taken  another  husband?" 

She  said  nothing  to  that.  "By  and  by," 
he  went  on,  "you  may  be  willing  to  have  me." 

That  time  she  could  not  answer  him.  He 
was  hurting  her. 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  and  picked  up 
an  edge  of  the  shift  she  was  hemming.  "I 
remember  very  well,  when  you  and  I  were 
plighted,  that  I  used  to  say  you  should  be 
much  married.  You  didn't  like  it.  It  made 
you  angry.  But  you  have  done  it.  You 
are  much  married;  and  now  it  is  I  who 
don't  like  it.  Do  you  remember  that, 
Stangerd  ?" 

She  nodded,  but  could  not  look  at  him. 

"I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  he  went  on;  "but 
I  will  tell  you  this — believe  it  or  not  as  you 
will.     When  I  wished  to  see  you  with  many 


CORMAC  COMES   BACK  257 

lovers,  many  husbands,  Stangerd,  I  loved 
you  much  better  than  I  do  now." 

A  large  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek,  and 
hung  there,  until  it  fell  into  her  needlework. 
Cormac  saw  it  gather  and  drop,  but  he  did 
not  alter  his  manner. 

"I  am  going  with  my  brother  Thorgils  to 
Norway,"  he  told  her;  "but  I  thought  that 
I  would  come  to  see  you  again  before  I  went. 
What  are  you  making  there?" 

She  told  him — a  shift. 

"It  is  for  yourself?     You  will  wear  it?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  said.  "Why  do 
you  ask  me  ?" 

He  said,  "It  would  be  strange  if  I  was 
not  interested  in  anything  which  will  be 
as  near  to  you  as  this  linen.  It  would  be 
strange  if  I  felt  very  friendly-disposed 
towards  it." 

"You  need  not  tumble  it  in  your  hands, 
at  least,"  she  said. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  feeling  about  for  a 
grip  at  its  windpipe,"  he  said,  then  stopped 


258  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

himself  with  a  short  laugh,  and  let  go 
of  it. 

"Will  you  do  me  a  service?"  he  asked 
her. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?" 

"That  linen  you  are  stitching  would  make 
me  a  shirt  to  wear  over  my  mail.  Will  you 
make  it  for  me  instead  of  yourself?" 

She  looked  at  him  quickly.  "Are  you 
going  to  wear  mail  ?  Are  you  going 
Viking?" 

His  eyes  laughed.  "I  think  so,"  he  said; 
"like  my  father  before  me — but  not  by  any 
means  for  so  good  a  reason." 

"What  was  your  father's  reason?"  she 
asked  him;    and  he  told  her. 

"He  was  a  man  of  large  mind  and  great 
passions.  He  felt  that  the  world  lay  to 
the  hand  of  the  man  who  could  handle  it. 
He  said  that  the  might  followed  the  mind. 
He  was  restless,  and  cramped  in  this  country 
of  stony  hills  and  narrow  dales  and  strait 
seas.     The  fire  burned  in  him  and  he  gave 


CORMAC  COMES   BACK  259 

it  vent.  He  went  far  and  did  greatly;  he 
went  often,  and  at  last  he  never  came  back. 
But  he  died  as  he  had  lived,  greatly." 

She  thought  that  very  fine,  and  expected 
much  the  same  answer  to  her  next  question; 
but  she  did  not  get  it. 

"And  what  is  your  reason  ?" 

"My  reason  is  that  I  may  forget  that  you 
ever  lived  and  made  me  suffer,"  he  said 
plainly. 

She  bit  her  lips,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
smarting  tears. 

"You  are  ungenerous.  You  are  a  coward 
to  say  so.  And  it  is  not  at  all  true.  I  was 
living  at  Nupdale  when  you  came  there. 
I  could  not  know  that  you  were  coming, 
or  who  you  were  that  came.  You  saw  me, 
and  after  that  never  left  me  alone.  You 
taught  me  to  love  you — and  then  you  left 
me,  when  you  had  made  your  songs  about 
me.  That  was  all  you  wanted  out  of  me, 
I  see  very  well.  Well,  go  now,  and  make 
your  songs  of  whom  you  will." 


260  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  stood  over  her  now,  dark  with  rage. 
"  Song !  Song  !  What  song  is  left  in  me  ? 
What  have  I  left  to  sing  of?  The  glory  of 
song  is  departed  from  me.  Once  I  had  it 
like  a  running  water  in  me,  a  well-spring 
that  never  ran  dry.  Then  you  came  and 
dipped  your  hands  in  it,  and  it  flowed  all 
about  you  as  if  it  would  carry  you  away 
to  the  sea.  And  then  it  slept.  It  went  when 
you  were  false  to  me." 

And  now  she  jumped  up,  flaming.  "I 
was  never  false  to  you.  I  was  never  false. 
You  are  lying.  It  was  you  who  tired  of  me, 
and  left  me  in  the  lurch  on  my  wedding- 
day.  I  sat  alone  here  in  my  crown,  with 
my  maids,  waiting  for  you — and  you  did 
not  come.  Now  go  to  sea  or  where  you 
will — but  leave  me.  I  will  never  make  a 
shirt  for  you,  so  long  as  I  live." 

There  where  she  stood,  all  flushed  and 
splendid  in  her  fury,  he  came  to  her  and 
took  her  in  his  arms.  Before  she  could 
stop  him  he  had  kissed  her  twice,  roughly 


CORMAC  COMES   BACK  261 

and  fiercely.  Then  she  broke  away,  and 
left  him  without  another  word. 

But  when  she  came  back  more  than  an 
hour  later,  he  was  still  there  in  the  same 
place.  She  stiffened  her  neck  and  squared 
her  shoulders. 

"I  required  you  to  go,"  she  said,  "but 
you  are  still  here.  What  sort  of  conduct 
is  this,  do  you  think  ?  My  father  and  my 
husband  will  be  here  soon,  and  there  will 
be  more  trouble  on  your  account.  Has 
there  not  been  enough  ?" 

Cormac  said,  "Stangerd,  I  can't  go  until 
you  forgive  me.  I  acted  badly,  I  am  very 
sorry." 

"You  forgot  yourself,"  she  said;  "but 
I  shan't  bear  a  grudge.     Go  in  peace." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  will  go.  But  I  shall 
see  you  again." 

"You  cannot,"  she  told  him.  "Thorwald 
will  be  angry." 

"That  makes  no  matter,"  he  said,  "so 
long  as  you  are  not  angry." 


262  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

She  said,  "Ah,  but  I  shall  be  very  angry 
if  you  use  me  so."     She  spoke  more  kindly. 

"I  will  not,"  he  said.  "I  will  not  touch 
you  again,  unless  I  go  mad  again." 

"That's  no  promise  at  all,"  she  said. 

"When  you  are  angry,"  he  said,  "I 
want  you  more  than  ever  I  did  in  my  life. 
And  you  call  up  something  in  me  which 
must  subdue  you  at  all  costs.  That's  the 
way  of  it.  Fire  calls  to  fire,  and  the  two 
burn  and  leap  together." 

She  was  grave  now,  and  shook  her  head. 
"This  must  not  be,"  she  said.  "I  shall 
go  away  from  here  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"You  will  do  no  good  by  that.  I  shall 
find  you." 

"I  hope  you  will  not  try." 

"I  also  hope  so.  I  could  not  be  happy 
with  you  if  I  had  you — nor  you  with  me." 

"Cormac,"  she  said,  and  touched  his  arm, 
"you  must  learn  to  do  without  me.  It  is 
not  to  be.  Now  I  see  very  well  that  it  was 
true  what  your  brother  Thorgils  said  when 


CORMAC  COMES   BACK  263 

he  was  here  that  day — when  you  were  not. 
He  said  that  the  spae-wife  had  put  a  spell 
upon  our  plighting,  that  you  and  I  could 
never  come  together.  And  it  is  true;  we 
have  not,  and  we  shall  not." 

He  seized  both  her  hands.  "Stangerd, 
come  now — come  with  me !  I  am  parent 
with  thirst." 

She  tried  to  get  away.  "No,  no,  no! 
You  can  never  drink  of  me." 

He  implored  her,  he  raved;  but  she  was 
ready  for  him  now.  She  was  kind,  but  she 
would  do  nothing.  Then  she  heard  her 
people  coming  in,  and  told  him  to  go.  He 
said  he  would  not  unless  she  kissed  him. 
She  did  it,  but  not  as  he  wished. 

He  went  out,  brushing  by  Thorkel  and 
Thorwald,  who  were  coming  in  to  dinner. 
He  took  no  notice  whatever  of  them;  but 
Thorwald  asked  who  he  was. 

Thorkel  said  shortly,  "That's  a  man 
whom  I  don't  want  to  see  any  more.  That 
is   Black  Cormac  of  Melstead,   a  dangerous 


264  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

man.  He  has  been  after  Stangerd,  you  may 
be  sure.  Now  you  must  deal  quietly  with 
that  man,  or  you  will  be  sorry  for  it.  He 
has  brought  more  troubles  to  this  house 
than  enough." 

Thorwald  brushed  his  nose  with  the  golden 
end  of  his  beard  and  was  silent  through 
dinner.  Afterwards  he  asked  Stangerd 
about  Cormac.  She  told  him  that  he  was 
going  abroad  and  had  come  to  say  good-bye. 

Thorwald  said  he  was  glad  to  know 
that.  "He  was  not  very  civil  to  Thorkel 
or  to  me." 

"He  had  no  reason  to  be,"  Stangerd  said 
rather  shortly. 

Thorwald  said,  "You  surprise  me. 
What,  is  he  to  treat  your  husband  like  so 
much  brushwood?" 

"He  is  a  man,"  Stangerd  replied,  "who 
treats  other  men  as  he  finds  them.  If  they 
are  friendly,  so  is  he;  if  unfriendly,  he  is 
more  so.     If  they  are  indifferent,  so  is  he." 

"But,"    said    Thorwald,    "I    was    not    in- 


CORMAC  COMES   BACK  265 

different — though  he  was.  How  could  I  be 
indifferent  to  the  men  who  come  to  visit 
you  ?" 

"You  had  better  learn  to  be  indifferent 
when  Cormac  comes,"  she  said. 

Thorwald  was  very  surprised,  and  brushed 
his  nose  a  long  time,  until  she  asked  him 
to  cease. 

"And  why,  pray,  am  I  to  cease?"  he 
asked. 

She  said,  "Because  I  ask  it." 

He  found  the  reason  bad.  "Nobody  has 
ever  asked  me  that  before." 

She  said,  "I  hope  that  I  shan't  have 
to  ask  it  again." 

He  considered  this  answer.  "It's  a  little 
trick  I  have,"  he  said. 

She  replied,  "It's  a  little  trick  I 
don't  like.  It  makes  you  look  very 
foolish." 

"Nobody,"  he  said,  "has  ever  told  me 
so  before." 

"I  wish   that   somebody  had,"   said   she, 


266  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"for  then  it  would  not  have  been  for  me 
to  tell  you." 

He  drew  himself  up  and  squared  his 
shoulders.  "Do  you  think  it  seemly  to 
tell  your  husband  that  he  looks  foolish?" 

She  returned  to  her  seat  by  the  fire  and 
her  sewing.  "I  think  it  more  seemly," 
she  said,  "than  that  he  should  continue  to 
look  so." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

STANGERD  GOES  TO  THE  FLEET 

^^OW  the  poet  of  whom  I   spoke  a  long 
time    ago    as    having  his   own    idea  of 
Cormac's    affair,    singing    about    his    troth 
broken  on  his  wedding-day,  says: 

"  But  of  this  matter,  when  Cormac, 
Betroth'd,  handfasted  as  he  was, 
Lover  accepted,  yet  drew  back 
At  the  last  hour,  a  thing  unchancy — 
Witch-finders  hint  at  spell  or  curse 
Upon  the  plighting.     Each  man  has 
His  own  curse  in  him,  and  my  fancy 
Sees  Cormac  storing  her  to  heart 
To  sing  about  in  sounding  verse, 
Making  a  goddess  of  a  lass, 
Not  better  but  so  much  the  worse 
The  more  herself  has  art  and  part 
In  the  business.     Call  this  nigromancy 

267 


268  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Done  by  the  spae-wife  out  of  spite — 
I  tell  you,  Love's  a  tricksy  sprite 
For  poets'  bosoms.     Love  says,  Kiss 
Your  well-belov'd,  she'll  kiss  again, 
Apt  pupil;   but  it's  also  true 
The  more  you  kiss,  the  more  you  strain 
Together,  the  less  lover  you, 
And  the  more  she.     Skald's  wisdom  is 
To  love  apart,  since  love  is  pain 
At  all  events,  howe'er  you  do; 
And  out  of  pain  that  Song  cometh 
The  which  you  live  by,  as  by  bread 
Live  some,  and  other  some  by  kiss 
(As  women  all).     Where  there  are  two, 
And  one  a  poet,  one  must  rue. 
Here  it  was  Stangerd,  as  the  case  is 
Whene'er  a  girl  accepts  the  embraces 
Of  poet-lover." 

And  he's  right,  there's  no  doubt.  But 
Cormac  could  not  be  expected  to  know  that. 

What  puzzled  the  young  man,  however, 
was  this,  that  he  felt  happier,  more  uplifted, 
as  he  went  away  from  Stangerd  than  he 
had  known  himself  to  be  when  he  was  with 
her.  In  her  presence  all  the  wicked  feelings 
which  beset  mankind   had   been   about  him 


STANGERD  GOES  TO  THE   FLEET    269 

— rage,  greed,  grudging,  jealousy,  and  the 
rest  of  them.  Her  beauty  had  made  his 
heart  blacker;  the  more  he  needed  her  the 
less  fit  he  felt  himself  to  touch  the  border 
of  her  gown.  But  now  he  had  left  her,  the 
clouds  parted,  and  she  shone  dazzling  like 
the  sun  in  the  blue  sky.  To  love  her  was 
not  only  reasonable,  but  it  was  a  career. 
It  was  food  and  drink,  occupation  and 
fame.  It  was  a  fire  within  him  which  would 
never  go  out — unless  he  saw  her.  Strange 
freak  of  fate  that  he  could  only  love  her 
when  he  didn't  see  her ! 

He  was  happier  than  he  had  been  for  a 
year  or  more.  He  began  to  sing  again, 
naturally,  like  a  bird. 

"Ah,  now  indeed  I  have  her — now 
When  I  am  leaving  her  for  good. 
For  good  ?     Ah,  yes,  for  now  I  know 
What  Christians  call  their  heavenly  food. 
You  see  no  flesh,  you  taste  no  blood, 
The  holy  flake  shines  like  the  snow; 
The  sweet  thin  wine  has  the  red  flow, 
But  not  the  salt  that  drencht  the  Rood. 


270  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

Now  I  have  feasted  as  I  would 
And  go  my  way  with  a  full  heart: 
Stangerd  and  I  shall  never  part 
If  I  can  keep  this  holy  mood." 

And  in  this  mood  he  remained  for  the  rest 
of  the  day,  finding  himself  strong  enough 
to  think  of  her  without  needing  to  see  or 
to  touch  her. 

In  the  mornl:  :  he  found  himself  down 
on  the  lees  again,  and  life  a  brackish  flat 
business  unless  there  was  a  hope  of  seeing 
Stangerd.  But  he  fought  with  himself,  and 
to  such  purpose  that  he  set  a  day  for  sailing 
and  kept  to  it. 

They  all  went  aboard,  men  and  horses, 
and  headed  for  the  Floe  with  a  fair  wind 
on  their  quarter.  That  was  four  or  five  days 
after  he  had  seen  Stangerd;  but  meantime 
Thorwald  had  taken  her  off  to  Fleet. 

He  took  her  off  the  very  next  day;  in 
fact,  after  his  unceremonious  meeting  with 
Cormac  in  the  entry  of  the  house.  He 
got   the   whole    story   out   of  Thorkel   that 


STANGERD  GOES  TO  THE  FLEET    271 

night,  and  the  more  of  it  he  got  the  less 
he  liked  it.  It  wasn't  so  much  that  he 
shirked  an  encounter  with  Cormac,  even 
though  he  was  not  much  of  a  fighter.  He 
explained  to  Thorkel  how  he  felt  about  it. 

"Stangerd,"  he  said,  "was  very  short 
with  me  after  Cormac  had  been  with  her. 
No  man  cares  to  be  thought  tiresome.  I 
am  not  at  all  accustomed  to  it;  I  have 
always  been  treated  with  respect.  I  am  a 
weighty,  sententious  man,  and  I  know  it. 
But  if  these  handsome,  flashing  poets  get 
about  a  young  woman,  she  is  dazzled.  She 
fills  herself  with  their  heady  drink,  their 
spiced  food,  and  turns  up  her  nose  at  the 
good  roast  or  soused,  at  the  good  white 
bread  or  curdy  cheese  upon  which  the  body 
is  built  up.  It  is  so.  I  wish  my  wife  to 
admire  me.  Is  that  so  extraordinary  ?  She 
will  be  happier  if  she  can  do  it,  and  so  shall 
I  be.  Now  when  I  was  talking  to  her  about 
her  Cormac,  I  noticed  that  little  tricks  of 
mine    with    the  beard    seemed    to    vex    her. 


272  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

I  have  an  uncommon  beard:  it  has  often 
been  noticed.  But  all  she  had  to  say  of  it 
was  to  ask  me  not  to  brush  my  nose  with 
it.  That  was  distressing.  It  can't  go  on 
like  this.  Within  the  first  few  days  of  a 
man's  married  life,  to  feel  that  a  man  is 
ridiculous  in  his  wife's  eyes  intimidates 
a  man." 

So  he  took  her  away  to  Fleet,  a  long  way 
from  Midfirth,  where  there  is  more  open 
water;  and  there  she  began  her  house- 
keeping. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD 

QORMAC'S  ship  Raven  had  a  fair  way 
over  the  Floe,  and  made  Skaganess 
on  one  tack.  But  past  the  Ness  they 
were  as  good  as  in  the  open  sea;  the  wind 
freshened  and  blew  from  the  south-east. 
They  thought  it  well  to  stand  inshore,  and 
found  smooth  water  at  once,  and  plenty  of 
it.  Drangey  showed  up  before  the  night 
fell,  and  as  they  were  in  strange  waters, 
they  decided  to  seek  a  haven  there  for  the 
night.  They  found  a  good  harbour  with  a 
sandy  bottom  on  the  west  of  the  island 
and  lay  as  snug  as  fish  in  the  sea. 

Next  day  they  crossed  the  frith  and  coasted 

up  the  further  shore.     The  mountains  come 

273 


274  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

right  down  to  the  sea  on  that  shore,  and 
the  lower  slopes  of  them  are  covered  with 
wood.  Cormac  sat  on  deck  looking  at  this 
magic  country  of  rocks  and  thin,  grey  stems. 
The  sunlight  was  like  mist  between  them, 
and  above  they  were  blushing  with  the 
rising  sap. 

Then,  on  a  sudden,  as  he  looked  his  heart 
stood  still.  He  saw  a  woman  in  a  blue 
cloak  riding  through  the  trees.  Her  head 
was  bare,  and  her  hair  shone  like  gold.  He 
went  white,  and  stared  with  his  eyes.  His 
lips  moved,  but  no  sound  came  from  them. 

Then  he  called  Thorgils  his  brother. 
"Thorgils,"  he  said,  "yonder  woman  riding 
there  is  Stangerd.  She  is  alone.  Shape 
your  course  closer  in,  and  be  ready  to  cast 
anchor." 

"Why,"  said  Thorgils,  "what  are  you 
about?" 

"I  am  going  to  see  Stangerd,"  Cormac 
said. 

"And  what  then?" 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  275 


a 


I  don't  know  yet.    We  shall  see." 

''Will  you  make  trouble  for  us  and 
her?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  will  be  to  do  that, 
or   to   end   the   trouble.      Alter   our   course, 

say. 

Thorgils  did  as  he  was  told.  The  water 
was  as  clear  as  glass  on  a  bottom  of  hard, 
white  sand.  They  stood  to  within  a  spear's 
throw  of  the  shore.  Stangerd,  if  it  was  she, 
had  seen  the  ship,  and  had  reined  up  her 
grey  horse  in  a  clearing  in  the  wood.  She 
was  looking  at  them.  Thorgils  now  saw 
that  it  was  Stangerd  sure  enough.  They 
heaved  the  anchor  overboard,  and  the  Raven 
brought  up,  but  before  she  was  fast, 
Cormac  was  in  the  water  to  his  middle. 

Stangerd  did  not  move  from  where  she 
was,  but  the  light  in  her  eyes  answered  the 
light  in  his,  and  her  flushed  face  to  his 
face. 

He  came  directly  to  her  through  the  trees, 
and  stood  beside  her.  ]  His  hand  rested  on 


276  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

the  horse's  mane,  but  he  did  not  touch 
her. 

She  spoke  first.  "You  have  come 
then." 

"I  saw  you — so  I  came." 

Her  eyes  engulfed  him.  But  she  was 
not  smiling.  She  was  too  deeply  satisfied 
for  any  outward  sign.  She  consumed  her 
happiness  within.  Nothing  in  her  life  had 
ever  pleased  her  so  much  as  this. 

Cormac  said,  "What  is  this?  Where 
are  you  going  ?  Do  you  live  here  ?  Where 
is  your  husband  ?" 

Then  she  laughed.  "A  string  of  questions  ! 
I  live  at  Fleet,  which  is  not  far  from  here. 
I  was  lonely  at  home,  so  I  came  out. 
Thorwald  is  away,  brushing  his  nose  some- 
where." 

Cormac  said,  "Let  him  be.  We  haven't 
much  time.     But  we  have  to-day." 

"You  are  for  Norway?"  she  asked  him. 
His  eyes  were  upon  her. 

"I  am  for  you  at  this  hour — and  the  ship 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  277 

is  fast.  Come  with  me  for  a  little.  You 
are  not  afraid  ?" 

She  said  seriously,  "No,  I'm  not  afraid. 
I'll  walk  with  you." 

He  stood  beside  her,  and  took  her  down 
from  the  horse.  When  he  had  her  in  his 
arms  he  held  her  for  a  moment,  and  she  made 
sure  that  he  was  going  to  kiss  her.  But  he 
did  not.  He  held  her  for  a  moment,  and 
then  put  her  down.  Both  of  them  were 
very  red,  and  both  out  of  breath.  They 
began  to  walk  slowly  through  the  wood. 
Cormac  led  her  horse. 

There  was  no  wind.  The  sun  was  hot, 
and  the  sky  blue.  The  sea  lay  glittering 
without  a  ripple.  The  ground  was  dry 
underfoot,  and  the  stems  of  the  birch-trees 
were  silver-grey.  It  was  good  to  be  alive 
and  young  on  such  a  day.  Cormac  and 
Stangerd  walked  slowly  side  by  side,  with 
very  little  to  say,  but  each  very  conscious 
of  the  other.  They  spoke  seldom,  and  in 
low  voices.    The  hour  of  great  desire  seemed 


278  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

to  be  past.  He  did  not  talk  of  love  to  her; 
but  great  love  was  in  everything  he  said 
and  hushed  every  tone  of  his  voice. 

At  noon,  being  out  of  sight  of  the  ship 
and,  so  far  as  could  be  seen,  quite  alone 
together  in  the  world,  they  sat  and  shared 
some  bread  which  Stangerd  had  with  her. 
After  that  Stangerd  said  that  she  was 
sleepy,  and  lay  down  with  her  head  on 
Cormac's  lap,  and  his  cloak  over  her.  He 
himself  sat  quite  still,  looking  out  over 
the  sea,  sometimes  with  great  tenderness 
at  her  unconscious  form  gently  stirring  in 
sleep.  He  thought  to  himself  that  it  would 
be  very  easy  to  suffer  if  she  was  always 
as  innocent  as  that.  When  the  evil 
moments  came  upon  him,  he  said  to  himself, 
let  him  remember  her  as  she  lay  there  soft 
and  pure,  nothing  but  the  most  lovely  thing 
in  the  world.  Let  him  forget  that  she  must 
lie  in  another  man's  arms  and  put  her  arms 
round  another  man's  neck,  and  do  him  a 
wrong  thereby.     Even  as  he  urged  himself 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  279 

to  forget  that  he  remembered  it,  and  felt 
his  blood  boil.  He  startled  violently  with 
the  pain,  and  she  awoke,  and  looked  up, 
smiling  lazily  with  her  blue  eyes. 

Immediately  he  said  to  himself:  "It  is 
nothing,  what  she  does  with  herself,  or  is 
done  to.  She  is  as  incapable  of  wrong- 
doing as  a  tree  or  a  flower.  It  is  I  who 
do  wrong." 

"Why  did  you  wake  me?"  she  asked 
him,  and  he  said,  "A  serpent  stung  me, 
and  I  started.     But  I  have  killed  it." 

She  laughed  as  she  snuggled  her  cheek  in 
her  hand.  "I  don't  believe  it.  There  are 
no  serpents  above  ground  in  March." 

"There  are  always  serpents  above  ground 
when  a  man  walks  the  world,"  said  Cormac. 

She  thought  of  that  for  a  while,  and  then 
she  sat  up  and  moved  beside  him,  and  took 
his  arm.  He  would  not  look  at  her,  but 
he  listened  acutely. 

"You  are  unhappy  at  leaving  me?" 
she  said. 


280  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

He  replied  at  once,  "No,  I  am  not. 
That  is  what  is  so  bad  about  it.  If  I  were 
leaving  you  enchanted  in  this  wood,  to 
sleep  until  I  come  back — in  a  year,  in  two 
or  ten  years — I  should  go  without  a  thought 
or  a  look  back.  But  it  is  because  I  am 
leaving  you  in  the  power  of  another  man 
that  I  grieve  and  fret.  Therefore  I  know 
that  I  love  you  not  well.  Therefore  I  know 
that  I  must  leave  you." 

She  lifted  her  eyebrows  and  opened  her 
eyes  wide.  "Are  all  men  like  you?  Do 
all  men  love  women  so  ? " 

"I  believe  that  they  do,"  Cormac  said: 
"but  I  don't  want  to  be  like  other  men. 
I  want  to  love  you  as  I  love  the  sky  and 
the  wind  on  the  hill.  You  are  as  beautiful 
as  they  are — indeed,  more  beautiful,  for 
they  only  represent  parts  of  you.  They 
are  your  eyes  and  your  breath.  But  there's 
your  fragrance,  and  your  gait,  and  the 
flame  of  your  golden  hair;  there  are  your 
brows,  your  chin,  your  bosom,  your    hands. 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  281 

And  last  of  all,  there  is  yourself,  which 
makes  men  sing  and  go  mad.  When  I 
first  loved  you  I  rejoiced  in  you;  but  after- 
wards I  could  not  rejoice,  because  I  wanted 
more  than  I  could  have.  Sometimes  I 
could  have  killed  you  for  love,  and  that's 
a  terrible  thing." 

She  said,  "Yes,  that  is  terrible;  but  I 
will  tell  you  this  now,  Cormac — that  there 
have  been  times  when  I  have  wished  you 
to  kill  me  with  love.  No  other  man  has 
ever  made  me  wish  that." 

Cormac  gloomed  and  frowned  over  this 
saying,  and  did  not  speak  for  a  time.  Then 
he  said,  "  Do  women  feel  such  things  ? 
Do  they  desire  to  give  what  a  man  desires 
to  take?  Is  that  possible?"  He  looked 
at  Stangerd,  but  she  had  turned  her  head 
away,  and  when  he  touched  her  hand  she 
moved  it  and  got  up. 

"We  must  go,"  she  said.  The  sun  was 
down  behind  the  mountains,  the  air  was  colder, 
and  dusk  had  begun  to  haunt  the  wood. 


282  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

But  Cormac  must  be  answered.  He  made 
her  face  him,  he  made  her  look  at  him. 
She  did  it,  but  a  storm  lay  gathering  behind 
her  eyes. 

"Stangerd,"  he  said,  "it  is  not  too  late." 

She  flamed,  she  stamped  her  foot.  "You 
fool,"  she  said  fiercely,  "it  is  too  late.  You 
have  made  me  suffer  horribly.  I  shall  never 
forget  it — and  I  will  not  forget  it." 

He  shut  his  eyes,  rocked  about.  "A  curse 
is  upon  me.  A  moment  ago  and  I  was 
happy,  loving  you  as  I  should.  But  now 
I  feel  the  fire  again." 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "Let  us 
go,"  she  said,  "let  us  go.  We  have  had 
a  happy  day."  She  was  quite  close  to 
him  now,  and  put  her  face  up  to  his  as  she 
spoke.  She  had  no  fear.  He  stooped  and 
kissed  her.     His  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 


Then  they  went   to  look   for  her  horse; 
but    he    had    strayed,    and    they    could    not 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  283 

find  him.  It  grew  dark  quickly,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  do  something.  "What 
shall  we  do?"  said  Cormac.  They  walked 
on  in  silence  together,  and  by  and  by  a 
light  showed  up  out  of  a  hollow  where  the 
hill  ran  sharply  down  to  a  river  and  the 
sea-level. 

"There's  a  house  down  yonder,"  Cormac 
said.  "They  will  shelter  us  for  the  night. 
We  had  better  go  and  ask  them." 

She  agreed  to  that,  and  took  his  arm. 
The  way  was  very  steep,  and  it  was  almost 
dark.  Soon  they  heard  the  roaring  of  a 
force,  and  could  make  out  the  roof-line  of 
a  small  house.  And  then  a  dog  barked 
sharply,  and  ran  out  to  meet  them — a  black 
and  white  dog. 

A  woman  answered  to  their  knocking, 
and  asked  them  in.  It  was  a  poor  house. 
She  said  that  her  sons  were  away  at  the 
fishing.  There  was  room  enough  for  them, 
but  not  much  to  eat. 

"There's  a  good  bed  for  you,"  she  said, 


284  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

"for  you  can  have  mine.  I'm  a  widow, 
worse  luck !" 

Cormac  said  at  once,  "You  must  give 
us  two  beds,  mother.     This  is  my  sister." 

"You  don't  favour  each  other  much,  by 
the  looks  of  you,"  she  said.  "You're  dark 
enough  for  an  Irishman." 

They  ate  her  meal  and  dry  fish  and 
sat  by  the  fire  for  a  little,  and  then  the 
woman  came  in  and  said  that  the  beds  were 
ready.  They  were  side  by  side,  but  a  wooden 
partition  ran  up  between  them  to  within 
a  foot  of  the  rafters.  Cormac,  who  thought 
that  he  should  be  awake  all  night,  went  to 
sleep  almost  immediately.  It  was  Stangerd 
who  kept  watch,  and  tossed  and  turned  the 
better  part  of  the  night. 

In  the  morning  Cormac  got  out  of  the  house 
early  and  went  up  the  hill  to  look  for  the 
horse.  He  found  him  without  trouble,  and 
brought  him  down  to  the  farmhouse. 
Stangerd  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  porch. 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  285 

She  wished  him  good-morning  with  a  smile 

and   kind   eyes.     He  took   her  in   his   arms 

and  kissed  her.     The  woman  of  the  house, 

who  was  stirring  her  oatmeal,   sniffed.     "I 

never  saw  a  man  kiss  his  sister  like  that," 

she  said  to  herself. 

*  *  *  *  * 

They  set  out  and  climbed  the  hill  into 
the  woods.  It  was  a  fresh,  mild  morning  of 
Spring,  and  the  birds  were  busy  every- 
where at  their  nesting  and  courtship.  The 
sea  sparkled  and  the  air  quivered.  Life 
was  a  good  thing  to  look  forward  to,  even 
if  to  look  back  was  a  bad  thing. 

Cormac  found  his  singing  voice  again. 

O  land  where  the  sea-eagle  hovers, 
O  mountain-land  and  river  flood. 
Here  is  the  wonder  of  the  wood, 
And  here  a  tale  of  love  and  lovers. 

What  have  I  done  ?     I've  heard  the  note 
Thrill'd  by  the  wood-bird  in  the  dark; 
It  set  me  soaring  like  a  lark 
That  on  his  own  song  seems  afloat. 


286  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

But  what  have  I  done  ?     I  was  blind 
That  thought  I  saw  a  fair  maid  pass 
And  stroke  my  cheek.     That  was  no  lass, 
That  spirit  of  the  wandering  wind. 

What  have  I  done  ?    0  silly  hands, 
That  thought  to  hold  and  starve  the  fire, 
And  teach  it  leap  to  your  desire 
And  burn  within  your  puny  bands ! 

What  have  I  done,  but  love  too  high  ? 
What  have  I  done,  but  fall  too  far  ? 
I  set  my  longing  on  a  star, 
And  there  it  burns,  and  here  I  lie. 

And  then  he  changed  the  time,  and  his 
voice  had  a  jarring  sound  here  and  there, 
though  the  words  were  tender.  Whiles,  it 
croaked  like  a  June  nightingale's. 

Of  Stangerd  and  her  beauty,  now, 

What  shall  I  sing  ?     Was  she  in  sooth 

The  Spirit  few  see  but  some  may  know, 

Even  as  believ'd  an  ardent  youth: 

The  Essence  at  the  heart  of  things, 

Which  makes  them  things  ?  substantial  truth  ? 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  287 

The  secret  rose  of  loveliness, 

The  very  flicker  in  the  wings 

Of  birds,  the  thrill  of  sweet  distress 

You  get  at  heart,  when  a  bird  sings 

At  night  ?     The  fragrance,  hue,  impress, 

The  very  life  within  the  dress 

That  bodies  beauty  ?     Was  all  this 

Chance-held  in  Stangerd's  blossomings 

For  Cormac's  vision  and  his  bliss  ? 

Was  she  so  rare  or  he  so  tender  ? 

He  found  her  so  by  hit  or  miss. 


There  he  stopped,  and  reined  up 
the  grey  horse.  He  put  his  hand  upon 
Stangerd's  knee,  and  held  her  eyes  with 
his  eyes  while  he  sang  again  his  last 
song. 

And  so  he  paid  for  his  lachess, 
Or,  if  you  please,  his  soul-surrender; 
For  plain  men  saw — a  piece  of  goods, 
Just  a  fine  girl,  for  all  her  splendour 
Of  form  and  favour,  made  of  moods 
And  whim  and  hearty  appetite, 
Who  liked  her  supper  and  was  clear 
What  was  and  what  was  not  her  right. 


288  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

And  so  two  took  her  for  delight, 
And  serv'd  them  of  her  aptitude 
For  work  by  day  and  play  by  night, 
And  found  all  well,  and  made  good  cheer; 
And  when  their  turn  came  round  she  dight 
Their  burial-clouts 

He  stopped  again  abruptly,  for  he  saw 
that  Stangerd  was  crying. 

"Shame  upon  me!"  he  said;  "my  love, 
forgive  me,  and  let  me  go." 

She  spoke  through  her  tears.  "You  don't 
know — you  don't  know  women.  I  am  glad 
all  men  are  not  like  you,  because  then  all 
women  would  be  as  miserable  as  I  am." 

He  strained  up  to  take  her,  but  she  would 
not  let  him.  After  a  while  she  dried  her 
eyes  and  spoke  to  him  again. 

"Go  now,"  she  said.  "There  is  your 
ship,  and  my  way  lies  yonder." 

Far  below  them,  truly  enough,  the  Raven 
lay  swaying  at  her  anchor.  Beyond  the 
Ness  the  sea  sparkled  and  crisped. 

Stangerd  stooped  from  her  saddle  and 
met  Cormac's  clouded  face.     Their  lips  met 


THE  NIGHT  IN  THE  WOOD  289 

and  stayed  together  for  a  while.  Then  she 
said  good-bye  and  turned  and  rode  through 
the  wood.  She  had  no  tears  in  her  eyes  now, 
and  carried  her  head  high.  The  fire  showed 
on  her  cheek-bones.  She  did  not  hurry  her 
horse,  but  kept  at  a  walking  pace  through 
the  wood,  and  out  on  to  the  heath.  Pres- 
ently she  saw  Thorwald's  house-stead  in 
the  hollow  of  the  hills.  It  looked  grey  in 
the  shadow,  for  at  this  time  of  the  year  it 
did  not  get  the  sun  till  noon. 

She  rode  down  the  hill  and  through  the 
meadows  to  the  garth.  Her  husband  stood, 
a  portly  man,  in  the  doorway,  brushing  his 
nose  with  his  fine  golden  beard. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  wife,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  END  OF  IT 

'"PHEY  say  that  Cormac  set  sail  in  the 
Raven  before  noon  of  the  day  when 
he  said  good-bye  to  Stangerd.  And  they 
say  that  when  he  was  in  the  open  sea, 
clearing  Grimsey,  which  is  the  most  northerly 
of  the  islands,  he  saw  a  sea-beast  of  grey 
colour  in  the  sea  upon  the  port  bow.  He 
had  a  spear  in  his  hand,  and,  as  the  beast 
swirled  up  alongside  the  ship,  he  threw 
the  spear  and  pierced  her  side.  She  rolled 
over,  and  he  saw  her  dead  blue  eyes  and 
broad,   expressionless   face.     He   said   to  his 

brother   Thorgils,    "That    was    the    face    of 

290 


THE   END  OF   IT  291 

Thorveig  the  spae-wife,  who  set  a  curse  upon 
me.  If  she  is  dead  now  ?  What  had  I 
best  do?" 

Thorgils  said,  "There's  no  going  back 
now." 

"There's  no  going  back  at  all,  in  my 
belief,"  Cormac  said. 


* 


It  is  true  that  just  about  then  Thorveig 
the  spae-wife  did  die;  but  Cormac  did 
not  go  back,  and  I  believe  he  never  saw 
Stangerd  again,  though  he  never  forgot  her, 
and  died  at  last  with  her  name  in  his 
mouth.  He  served  the  Kings  of  Norway 
for  many  years;  became  a  great  Viking; 
was  known  in  Ireland  and  Scotland.  They 
say,  indeed,  that  he  made  a  settlement 
for  himself  at  Scarborough  in  England; 
but  I  don't  know  how  that  may  be. 
So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  have  done 
with  him. 


292  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

As  is  the  case  with  all  good  tales,  there 
are  more  sides  than  one  to  Cormac's.  Was 
he  cursed  by  the  spae-wife,  or  by  his  own 
nature  ?  Did  he  well  by  Stangerd,  or  ill  ? 
Was  the  poet  right  who  said  that  when 
one  of  his  kind  loves  a  woman,  the  woman 
will  be  sorry  for  it  ? 

The  same  poet,  who  is  not  Cormac,  closes 
his  version  of  the  story  upon  a  note  which 
can  be  variously  interpreted. 

He  says: 

So   much    for    Cormac.     And    what   she 
gain'd 
Of  her  wild  lover,  or  how  suffer'd 
To  have  her  well  of  sweetness  drain'd 
By  one  or  other  as  he  offered — 
She  was  a  woman  and,  men  think, 
Rewarded;  for  they  crav'd,  she  profFer'd; 
They  thirsted  and  she  gave  them  drink. 
They  dipt  their  cups  for  what  she  cofFer'd, 
And  if  they  needed,  should  she  shrink 
Lest    she    might    come    to    want  ?      Their 

thriving 
Was  hers,  we  say — without  a  wink, 


THE  END  OF  IT  293 

Because  we  mean  it.     She  got  by  giving. 
For  giving  man  life  is  her  living. 
At  least,  that's  man's  serene  persuasion. 
He  calls  it  her  re-generation. 

Now  that's  all  very  well;  but — I  should 
like  to  have  Stanvor  Slimlegs,  opinion  more 
than  anyone's. 


NOTE 

PWO  English  versions  of  this  tale  are 
known  to  me,  both  literal  translations 
of  the  Saga  as  it  now  stands.  One  of  them,  the 
more  critical  and  crabbed  of  the  pair,  is  to  be 
found  in  the  second  volume  of  York  Powell's 
and  Vigfussen's  Origines  Islandiccs;  the  other, 
which  includes  a  good  deal  omitted  in  the 
first,  and  is  a  more  genial  work  altogether, 
if  not  so  correct,  is  by  Messieurs  W.  G. 
Collingwood  and  Jon  Stefansson,  and  was 
published  at  Ulverston,  in  Lancashire,  in 
1902.  It  is  embellished  with  charming 
landscapes  of  the  places  named  in  the  tale. 
Both    of    these    versions    have    been    useful 

to  me,  and  I  hereby  express  my  obligations 

294 


NOTE  295 

to  their  learned  authors;  but  both  of  them 
render  Cormac's  tale  exactly  as  it  now 
exists,  with  all  its  joints  loose,  and  some 
missing,  with  an  abrupt  beginning,  no  middle, 
and  no  end.  My  business  with  it  has  been 
to  make  it  accountable,  and  relate  part  to 
part;  for  as  it  stands  it  is  not  reasonable; 
its  parts  don't  cohere;  it  seems  to  lack 
human  nature  and  that  logic  of  events  which 
only  a  study  of  human  nature  can  give. 
Those  must  have  been  in  the  tale  once, 
but  they  are  not  there  now,  and  I  have 
tried  to  put  them  back  again.  We  are  apt 
to  stumble  upon  the  discrepancies  in  old 
stories,  to  put  them  down  to  outlandish 
customs,  or  outmoded  ones,  or  the  vagaries 
of  the  romancer,  and  to  slur  them  over. 
But  it's  not  the  way  to  get  the  good  out 
of  a  good  tale  to  say:  "To  be  sure,  it 
might  be  better,  but  let's  get  on  .  .  ." 
Human  nature  knows  neither  time  nor 
place,  has  been  very  much  the  same  in 
Odin's   day   and   in   Christ's,    is   very   much 


296  A  LOVERS'  TALE 

t 

the  same  in  Iceland  and  in  England,  and 
in  all  the  countries  I  ever  heard  of  or  saw. 
Reading  closely  into  Cormac's  tale,  I  find 
it  quite  reasonable  and  full  of  human  nature 
as  we  know  it  now. 

Cormac  was  a  poet,  so  much  the  better 
or  so  much  the  worse  than  other  poets 
before  him  or  since  in  that  he  didn't  know 
it,  or  at  any  rate  didn't  know  what  his 
poiesis  involved.  He  didn't  know  when  he 
began,  but  he  had  an  inkling  before  he  had 
done.  Men  of  his  sort,  who  joy  in  the 
thought  rather  than  the  deed,  and  see  beauty 
the  better  the  less  they  handle  it,  have 
flourished  in  the  world  at  all  ages  of  it — 
in  the  days  of  Paris,*  who  did  basely,  in  the 
days  of  Dante,  who  did  sublimely,  and  in 
our  own,  when  thinking  and  doing  alike 
are  going  out  of  fashion  in  favour  of  talking 
about  one  or  the  other.  Therefore,  according 
to  me,  there  is  sound  human  nature  in  the 

*  This  may  seem  a  hard  saying,  yet  I  am  very  sure  that  Paris 
had  more  joy  in  considering  Helen's  beauty  than  in  consuming  it. 


NOTE  297 

tale  of  Cormac's  preposterous  love-making, 
and  no  less  in  the  account  of  the  lovely 
Stangerd  whom  he  so  long  and  squeamishly 
beset.  As  for  old  Berse  of  the  many 
battles,  he  is  a  man  of  men,  and  deserves 
a  saga  all  to  himself.  He  had  one  once, 
but  it  has  perisht. 

M.  H. 


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A  Study  in  Prodigality 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

A  colorful  novel  of  England  in  the  early  nine- 
teenth century. 

Open  Country 

A  Comedy  with  a  Sting 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"It  is  finished  in  its  sensitive  miniatures  of  women. 
Above  everything,  it  has  a  gleam  of  unforgettable 
romance." — Chicago  Post. 

Halfway  House 

A  Comedy  of  Degrees 

12mo.     $1.35  net 

"It  is  a  thing  of  action,  and  the  action  is  true  to 
human  nature." — New  York  Tribune. 

Rest  Harrow 

Illustrated.     12mo.    $1.35  net 

Brings  to  a  close  the  romance  of  Senhouse  and 
Sanchia  of  "Open  Country"  and  "Halfway 
House."  j 

Letters  to  Sanchia 

12mo.    90  cents  net 
Letters  written  by  Senhouse  to  Sanchia. 


BOOKS    BY   MAURICE   HEWLETT 


The  Song  of  Renny 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"He  has  taken  us  back  again  to  the  mystery  and 
romance  of  mediaeval  days." — Boston  Herald. 

The  Forest  Lovers 

A  Romance 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"The  book  is  a  joy  to  read  and  to  remember — a  source 
of  clean,  pure  delight." — The  Dial. 

The  Life  and  Death  of 
Richard  Yea  and  Nay 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"We  have  to  thank  Mr.  Hewlett  for  a  most  beautiful 
and  fascinating  picture  of  a  glorious  time." 

— London  Chronicle. 

The  Queen's  Quair 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"That  Mr.  Maurice  Hewlett  would  give  us  a  flaming, 
wonderful  picture  of  Queen  Mary  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion. .  .  .  No  portrait  has  been  so  vivid,  so  true  in 
its  unblushing  realism,  and  so  instinct  with  sensuous 
grace  as  that  which  Mr.  Hewlett  has  painted  for  us." 

—  Westminster  Gazette. 


Lore  of  Proserpine 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

Some  of  these  papers  are  almost  directly  bio- 
graphical; others,  fairy  stories  for  grown-ups  per- 
haps, present  the  world  as  the  author  sees  it,  or 
life  as  he  understands  it. 

Little  Novels  of  Italy 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"The  most  finished  studies  which  have  appeared  since 
the  essays  of  Walter  Pater." — London  Daily  Telegraph. 

"The  stories  are  so  true  to  their  locality  that  they  read 
almost  like  translations." — New  York  Times. 

Brazenhead  the  Great 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"If  you  love  a  picturesque  character  you  will  love  the 
Captain,  as  a  friend,  no  matter  how  virtuous  you  may 
be.  The  Captain  had  the  big  qualities.  He  seems  like 
a  distant  relative  of  the  great,  adorable  rogues  Barry 
Lyndon,  Harry  Richmond,  and  Cellini." 

— New  York  Evening  Sun. 

New  Canterbury  Tales 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"The  stories  are  medieval  to  the  very  core  and  show 
extraordinary  perception  of  the  inner  life  of  a  distant 
and  alien  age." — The  Outlook. 


BOOKS   BY   MAURICE   HEWLETT 

The  Fool  Errant 

12mo.    $1.35  net 

"  Nothing  else  quite  so  good  in  its  own  way  has  come 
to  us  since  Charles  Reade  wrote  the  •  Cloister  and  the 
Hearth.'  " — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

The  Road  in  Tuscany 

A  Commentary 

2  Volumes.     8vo.     $6.00  net 

"Every  one  who  wishes  to  have  an  English  library  of 
books  of  and  on  Italy  should  have  this  frank  and 
charming  comment  upon  Tuscany." 

— Chicago  Tribune. 

Earthwork  Out  of 
Tuscany 

Being  Impressions  and  Translations 

12mo.     $2.00  net 


"Written  with  the  lightness,  the  delicacy,  the  felicity 
of  the  painter  whose  colors  are  words  fitly  chosen." 

— San  Francisco  Argonaut. 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

FIFTH  AVENUE  AT  48TH  STREET.  NEW  YORK 


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